The Dawnbringer
by Magnusdidnothingwrong
Summary: The death of a Primarch and the birth of a human child would, in an ideal universe, have nothing to do with one another. A manipulating Emperor, the twisted fate of the galaxy, and the crippling desire to be more certainly have a tendency to make that universe a little less ideal, however. I am both Adrian Morrelaris and Konrad Kurze, and this is my story.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Warhammer 40k or associated properties. Actually, let's be safe and say I don't own anything.**

* * *

**The Dawnbringer**

**Prologue**

* * *

It is a matter of great contention on the subject of knowing one's fate. What direction will your life take, where will fate's many winding paths land you, when will you die? Some desire these answers beyond anything else in the galaxy, both material and immaterial, while other more blessed people would not wish such a fate upon even their greatest of enemies.

No greater an argument against knowing ones' future was there than the tragedy of Konrad Kurze, fallen son of the Emperor of Mankind and Primarch of the Night Lords Legion. The greatest turning points of his life were dictated by visions of the future unceremoniously crammed into his mind. One of an ideal universe, and perhaps the most likely situation, and the other the worst possible outcome. The latter, though there is no substantial proof, was likely the works of Chaos in their ever-evolving game to screw over the Emperor of Mankind.

Perhaps the most damning argument was the visions of his death that flooded Kurze's mind. For all his madness, all his views and terroristic tendencies, it was perhaps the vision of his fathers' assassins killing him that pushed Kurze into line with Horus.

How ironic that it was this decision that led to the assassins moving against the Primarch, a fact not lost on Kurze.

When the Primarch died, all his soul was reclaimed by Chaos.

All but a small portion. One small portion escaped, or was perhaps guided away, across the stars to a planet untouched by the Heresy and war. To a child born just as the Primarch died. To a child that had been doomed to death, but their body was given life once again by a soul destined to greatness or doomed to evil. Konrad Kurze was given another chance, another chance to decide his path by the father he hated.

But this he would not know for a very, very long time, for matters such as these take time.

* * *

Adrian Morrelaris, son and bastard of Baron Alvica and a Courtier forgotten to the years following Adrian's birth, was not granted a normal childhood. As the bastard of a powerful man such as the Baron, he had little in terms of tangible power, but Adrian had never let his titles (or lack thereof) hold him back.

The planet they called their home, Ruvara, was located in the furthest reaches of Ultima Segmentum. Though the system held little of value, it still held a decently sized force from the Excertus Imperialis. The border region of civilized planets held many curiosities for the powers deeper in the Imperium and so Ruvara and her two sisters, the ever creatively named Ruvara-2 and Ruvara-4, became local bases. Not that Baron Alvica was one to complain, as the proximity of the Excertus Imperialis meant a greater uptick in trade through state-funded ventures.

Adrian was very ingrained in this portion of his father's ventures. Even though Adrian was a bastard, Alvica recognized the boy's genius from an early age. Though Adrian's strengths rested in the execution and understanding of the judiciary systems, he was certainly no slouch in matters of war and trade. At the tender age of eighteen, he was granted a commission in his father's Ministry of Espionage. Though little more than a joke at the moment of Adrian's arrival, the next half-decade of Adrian's life was dedicated to cleaning the Ministry.

At twenty-three, Minister Adrian Morrelaris was seen as one of the most powerful men in Ruvara. His father, the ageing Baron Alvica, had even begun seeing the bastard as his truest heir, as his three true children were arrogant, incompetent, or too young (in that order). This began to nurture the seeds of dissent and disdain between the three children and Adrian, but acting against him was out of the question. Adrian had built quite the fiefdom out of the Ministry of Espionage, its skill so great and deadly that even the Inquisition of the future might have looked on appreciatively.

At the age of eighty-seven, Baron Alvica breathed his last. A young age for the time and the situation surrounding the death had Adrian more than suspicious. So began the great scouring for power, the Ministry of Espionage digging into every aspect of life on the planet in search for clues, as well as attempting to seize more control. The PDF, under the eldest son, did much the same but with varying, and often bloody, effectiveness. The middle and youngest child attempted their own coups, but the death of the first scared the second into backing off. The battle between the bastard and the eldest was shortlived, however. The arrival of a fleet bearing the colours of the fallen Night Lords struck the planetary fleet like a hammer would an anvil. For all its sparks, the fleet was driven back by the expert commands of the Admiral overseeing the Excertus Imperialis fleet and Adrian himself. Swearing revenge, Adrian mustered the fleet alongside the Admiral, leaving his subordinates in the Ministry with the task of securing Ruvara.

For reasons he would come to understand in time, Adrian had a distinct hatred for the Night Lords.

For five years, he pursued the splinter Warband across the stars. For five years he harried their heels. For five years, Adrian tried his damndest to take his vengeance on the damnable traitors.

Finally, the Night Lords were caught by Adrian's fleet, and a glorious battle it was. The two fleets, one relying on the skill of Astartes and the other the training of the Excertus Imperialis, fought with tooth and nail. Finally, it was the fleet under Adrian that finally won out, but it was a pyrrhic victory. The Admiral he had left with had perished, as did all but three of his ships. It was with low morale and heavy hearts that they returned to Ruvara, but what they found did little to alleviate their pain. In the five years since Adrian had left, the Ruvaran system had erupted into civil war. The eldest, believing he could seize control while Adrian was gone, sent the PDF to fight the Ministry of Espionage. The resulting war spread across the system and ended with the utilisation of nuclear warheads.

All three planets were scourged of life barring the lucky few to escape into the void. All of this was recounted to Adrian by the youngest child, who had made an intelligent decision for once in their life and escaped before the worst of the fighting broke out.

Crushed by his failure twice over, Adrian used his fleet to escort the youngest to the nearest civilized system before vanishing into the night. The history of Adrian Morrelaris would die in a few short years, the survivors scattering and dying in wars far off. The Ruvaran system was remembered only as a collection of barren worlds and the youngest let the memories of Adrian die with him. In a way, this granted Adrian the chance to start somewhere against, but this failure weighed heavily on his heart. His desire for vengeance against the traitorous Astartes as well as his desire for justice had seen a system burned in millions dead. Worst than that, his trust in his own abilities was crushed. Swearing to spend the rest of his days as little more than a beggar between planets, ready to die for his inability to protect his home.

As fate would have it, Adrian began to notice an issue at age fifty.

Namely, he had stopped ageing.

* * *

It was fortunate that I never remained in any one place for long, as my inability to age would certainly confuse or worry people. So I move, from planet to planet, from system to system. Where ever I go, I live off the charity of others or work for a few years for a pittance. Years stretched to decades, decades to centuries, and centuries into millennia. Over time, the charity and goodwill of people petered to fear and mistrust. The Inquisition, something I would have found quite amazing in my youth, had poisoned the Imperium quickly and efficiently. Their indiscriminate madness reminded me of the limits justice have, and that morality and situation were a factor involved.

When I reached one-thousand years old, I always kept track of my birthday with a desperate fervour lest I forget who I was, I looked over a galaxy greatly changed by the Horus Heresy. How far we had fallen, so desperate to keep a failing dream alive even as we claw ourselves apart with foolish arrogance and horrid superstition.

Yet again, perhaps I can't really say anything. Fear of a second, greater failure had made me little more than a hermit. I hide away and criticize humanity while acting just the same. Ah, how poetic old age has made me.

As the years passed, I decided to change my approach to the galaxy. If I could no longer live off of charity, though I eventually discovered I could not eat nor sleep nor drink for years on end and be no worse for wear, I could make people respect me through my eccentricity. The Remembrancers of an era long ago were all but dead, their order was forgotten in the disaster that followed. Yet, even as the ages went on many officials of significant or even minor power remembered the historians and artists of the great crusades. My bizarre dress and eccentric manner of speaking adopted to match the persona I was crafting, sold the idea that I was the last of a dying order. I was ofter brought before Governors and Barons as a 'guest of honour', and was housed in return for my 'great stories'. I am quite the storyteller, or so I am told.

This new self-declared job saw me joining many a Lord Commander in their crusades, there to record their many heroics and adventures.

At ten-thousands years old, I had seen more of the galaxy then I had ever expected to see when I was a child with my father. My life was perfect, I was neither wanting nor bored. Yet, something was nagging at the back of my mind. Something I was forgetting that attempted to make itself known.

Of course, I was not allowed to ruminate for long on whatever I was forgetting. The cruiser I was being housed on, courtesy of an especially pompous admiral, found itself suddenly and violently under attack by the black ships of a Xeno species.

And they were not taking prisoners, it seemed.


	2. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Warhammer 40k or associated properties. Actually, let's be safe and say I don't own anything.**

**A/N: I have combined chapters 1 & 2 for a more cohesive story.**

* * *

**The Dawnbringer**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**Three days before the attack upon the cruiser "Bane of Traitors"...**

The decadence of a few truly surprised me even considering my ancient age. The fact that a collection of pompous, lazy bureaucrats could amass such wealth and opulence for themselves and choice 'friends' while the rest of the Imperium lived like paupers made me sick to my core. The side of me that I did such a fine job of repressing: the inquisitor and vigilante, called for the deaths and blood of those present.

The face I put forth was one of unrivalled detachment, a being so mired in the ways of opulence that it had become detached from reality. In a way, I was, my acting as a Remembrancer over the millennia certainly opened doors for me. That and my upbringing was in wealth and power, but I had spent many long centuries as a pauper in repentance for my failures to protect my home.

Times change, however, and no longer could I play the part of a beggar and survive, so I chose the other job that no one would ever dare question: the Remembrancer. Their ancient guild had all but fallen to the wayside, an organisation of non-combatant scribes was of no use to the Guard or Navy, after all. However, the well-educated certainly knew of those old historians and artists, so my bombastic manner of dressing certainly drew their attention.

The crowd I was entertaining today was the family and comrades of one Admiral Humatiel, a beastly creature I hesitated to call a man. He was as portly as he was egotistical, believing his uninteresting tales compared to the epics I orated. Alas, all those present (myself included, to my repeated embarrassment) applauded and sang the praises of the man after another of his 'stories'. While the others might want to remain close to the man, figuratively, of course, I merely wanted to avoid the scrutiny of his Inquisitor harlot. Somehow, the leather-bound woman beside the Admiral had become _carnally _connected to the portly fellow, and she had shown deep disdain for me since I first joined this group three months prior.

My initial observations of the woman were not great on my end, either. She looked young, which was perhaps a poor tell as the wealthy tended to make themselves look half a century younger than they truly were, and while seemed to have some skill in seduction and subterfuge, she had to be a front. Someone else, perhaps another Inquisitor, was operating behind the scenes while she drew attention. I hoped, for both mine and the (real) Inquisitor's sake that they didn't hold the same suspicious as the young woman.

"Ah, truly dear, that was a riveting story." The woman spoke with a purr, leaning forwards so that she might offer the portly fellow a clear view down her attire. She soon turned her feline gaze upon me, however, and there was no sultry expression or enticing smile. In fact, her expression to rather sinister features I found myself distinctly off-put by, "Perhaps the resident minstrel might counter that?"

A minstrel? Me? Maybe my deep purples and reds might give that idea, but it hurt my already battered ego.

"You honour me, Madame. I may be no Admiral Humatiel, but I like to think myself a competent orator… Yes, I believe I have a story. Your tale of the battle against the traitorous fleet of Ghatrol V reminds me of such a conflict from many centuries ago," I lean forward as if I was telling a secret, drawing my audience in, "Against the _Night Lords_."

Gasps were heard around the table, all present at least having a passing familiar with one of the traitor legions of the Horus Heresy. The Inquisitor so deeply disdainful of me narrowed her eyes as she glared at me, evidently not amused by my choice of topic. It was something of a _deeply discouraged _subject to broach, given the Inquisition's dedication to keeping the general public as unaware of the galaxy's threats as possible.

"You speak truthfully? The Night Lords met a fleet in open battle?" The Inquisitor demanded with more than a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"It was a challenge, let me say," I laugh as if her barbed scepticism went over my head, "Five long years of chasing those thrice-damned traitors, but we finally caught them over a dead moon. A fleet of three-hundred some ships against ours of five-hundred, where they had their dark powers we had the steadfast determination of tens of thousands of Imperium Armsmen."

That was a lie, of course. The battle was the one I had commanded so many thousands of years ago. The ships were about half the numbers on both sides that I claimed, but it wasn't as if anyone present could actually check my facts. Besides, both sides fought like they were twice their number, so it evened out in my mind.

"We had badgered them for quite some time after they had ravaged the home system of the Admiral, and he had no intention of allowing the damnable traitors to escape again. We had cornered them and launched a risky assault, looking to catch as many as possible before they made their escape into the warp once more. Our cruisers battered their heretical amalgamations of ship parts, but they were made of sterner stuff than even the Admiral had expected. They returned fire not with their guns, but with boarding craft to seize our ships before we destroyed theirs. Their numbers were legion and the leader of this damnable horde seemed to have made it his task to take the flagship of the fleet. Our Armsmen fought, but what can a man do before such unrelenting hate? They attacked the bridge where the Admiral, a number of survivors, and your's truly was holed up. As the battle raged about, it was the Admiral who faced that traitorous Space Marine. The beast called the Admiral all matter of insults and made all sorts of threats, but the Admiral was ever the Imperial. He met fiery hatred with cool determination and crossed blades with the traitor, oh what a battle it was. For a brief span of thirty minutes did it last, neither getting the upper hand yet battering each other down with each glancing strike. On and on this spar went until, with a mighty swing, the beastly Astartes was felled and its head sent flying into the horde of its ungainly compatriots." That was only partially true, of course. The Admiral had perished significantly earlier when the Warband, through the usage of the warp, drove the man to insanity and forced me to put him down. The duel with the Chaotic beast was mine, as was its victory. It was the first moment I began to take notice of my distinctly inhuman powers, for no average man should be able to best an Astartes in single combat. I, naturally, failed to mention the part where I… I mean, the Admiral preceded to brutalize the remaining Traitor Marines.

With a bright smile, I continue to speak to my rapt audience. I always was quite good at playing an audience.

* * *

It took a not-insignificant amount of time for the fool to finish yet another of his fantastic and borderline heretical stories, but only then did Humatiel call to close another of his sycophantic dinners.

Indeed, Inquisitor Abria Oshanon struggled to remain awake during the tale, though she noted the mouth-breathing fools arrayed around her were listening with rapt attention. Evidently it was only the foolish and the simple that listened to the self-proclaimed 'Remembrancer' and found any enjoyment in his tales of grandeur.

Abria was deeply thankful when she escaped the room, though she was still forced to hang on the arm of that most disgusting man calling himself an 'Admiral'. Oh, that was not to say he had not earned such a title. Despite how Humatiel acted in private… or public for that matter, he had a natural confidence and commanding presence on the bridge of his favoured cruiser. It is a shame that the man's vices included speaking and eating excessively, if not for those then Abria might find her cover a mite less distasteful.

She was guided to her room aboard the ship, cooing softly to the Admiral while suffering the same tales she had heard twenty times previously. Behind the duo, two of the man's guards followed at a distance. They held in their hands autoguns which were held at the ready in some parody of the strict discipline of certain Guard regiments.

"Thank you for leading me to my room, dear. We wouldn't want me getting lost," Abria breathed into the man's ear with a husky tone, brushing her lips across his plump cheek. The already rosy man seemed to deepen in colour at her words and actions, drawing himself up higher.

"It is the duty of an Admiral to ensure his company are safe aboard his ship, is it not?"

"Oh my, perhaps I should reward this great Admiral," Abria continued, retreating back and smiling, biting her lower lip for an added effect. Ah, and what an effect it had. Even the two guards adjusted themselves, wrongfully thinking they were beyond the notice of those present.

"Later, I hope. For the time being, I must see to the changing to the guard, so to speak," Humatiel announced, gripping Abria's hand and bringing it to his grotesque lips. Abria fought down a shudder and struggle to maintain her expression, quick to retract her hand the moment Humatiel's grip slackened.

With that, the man's massive frame waddled down the hall with his two guards following close behind. Abria took the moment to escape into her room, barely waiting for the door to close before she let a scowl set across her features.

How tiring, dealing with the Admiral and his collection of sycophants. Of course, it was all necessary if her information was correct. Which it was, the Inquisition was never wrong.

Movement in the corner of her eye warned Abria that she was not alone, but she didn't feel any fear or one man could have gotten past her alerts, after all.

"You have news for me, I hope?" She demanded of the figure hidden in the furthest shadow of her room. The figure, evidently not surprised it had been discovered, responded with a deep and amused tone.

"Of course, Junior Inquisitor Oshanon," Abria could only imagine it's smirk when she scowled at the honorific of 'Junior Inquisitor', but it was the truth. This mission was supposed to act her final test to become a full, official Inquisitor of the Ordo Militum. A series of awfully suspicious murders and she was sent to discover and deal with the source. Abria had been granted the resources necessary for her to succeed in this task: a team of a dozen or so under-cover Inquisition Stormtroopers and an informant from a hitherto unnamed source, "It regards our dear friend, the Remembrancer."

Abria noticeably perked up at this; the great unknown had been a thing of continuing annoyance. The man was not only quite boring, despite his evident belief that he was an amazing storyteller, but his arrival coincided with a series of unfortunate deaths. A pair of Naval Commissars found dead in their bedrooms half a ship apart, the on-ship investigator tasked with uncovering the secret behind these two deaths, and the sporadic disappearances of armsmen and voidsmen alike. Now, suddenly, an enigmatic and bizarre Remembrancer appears as if his kind were common in the first place. He had given nothing of his true colours away thus far, despite Abria's best attempts at discovering something, anything, on the man, but she came up short every time.

Not this time, though. For three months, information of the unnamed Remembrancer was scarce at best, but her informant wouldn't approach her empty-handed.

"You've got something." More a statement of fact than a question, to which the informant's pearly whites actually appeared.

"I can't say its much, our dear friend is something of a ghost. However, reports of a man matching his exact features go back as far as five-hundred years ago." Abria paused at that, blinking a couple of times as her mind came to term with the informant's words.

"He's five-hundred?!" Abria demanded and, before the informant had time to respond, continued, "He doesn't look a day over fifty!" Truthfully, it was a pain to tell with the exceptionally wealthy in this modern age. His face was filled with only the wrinkles of a man who smiled perhaps too much, but beyond that, there was no obvious tell that he was within the triple-digits.

"I can only speculate beyond three-hundred at the youngest, the reports do not call him by name… Though I notice he had yet to give his name here, either."

"The man is an enigma and painfully deflective regarding anything information about himself," Abria muttered before perking up once more, "You said he could not be younger than three-hundred, how?"

"Blood samples, he was required to leave some upon boarding the ship. The machinery can only give approximate estimations of age, and even then they aren't meant to go beyond three-hundred standard years."

"You wouldn't bring this up if his blood didn't reach that arbitrary threshold."

"The machine places him somewhere past three-hundred, though how far is a mystery."

"How painfully vague," Abria bemoaned as she sat down on her bed, running a hand through her hair and undoing the hours of work it took the perfect the mess. The figure cackled at her displeasure before seeming to grow annoyed.

"Information regarding his relationship with the Remembrancer Guild has met a dead-end. I wasn't even aware the Guild was still in operation until he appeared, and indeed they have become as much of a ghost as the one here. Even my extensive contacts can find me nothing on the man, not a name nor even an organized list of where he has been."

"Which only further's my suspicion," Abria muttered as she laid down in her bed to stare at the ceiling and think. There had to be something, anything, about the painfully enigmatic man that could point her towards his true purpose. Why would a man playing the part of a Remembrancer come to a cruiser not involved directly in some great crusade? Why now, during the height of an increasingly harrowing investigation? Why, why, why? Was he with the Ordo Militum to evaluate her progress? The Ordo Hereticus? Was he involved with these happenings, or here by complete happenstance? So many questions and yet Abria, the Inquisitor, was without answers.

"What in the name of the Throne does a Remembrancer even do?" She bemoaned, unfamiliar with the title up until recently.

"Remembrances things, I assume?"

"Without the snark, informant."

"They record great deeds and heroics be in it poem, paintings, statues, or scripture." Droned the informant as if he were reciting the list from a manual or book. An idea began to take form in Abria's mind, just the start but something that could allow her to pin the Remembrancer-but-not as either friend or foe.

"And someone like that would have to record what they see for later recording, no?"

"So long as he was the first or the last of that list, then yes. It would depend on what he brought with him aboard the cruiser, Junior Inquisitor."

"Find the ship's manifest and find out what he took on board. If I can see what he has recorded, then it might lend some light to the situation."

"As you wish, Junior Inquisitor."

* * *

I soon found my way back to my room, free of the glares of the Inquisitor and the bumbling attempts at levity made by the Admiral and his sycophants. A good thing, too, as I could begin to feel the bearest twitches in my hands by the end.

My room was remarkably spartan for a man of my supposed place in the Imperium, but I had spent many a long year living in such conditions and had rather come to favour it. It kept my mind clear of distractions in my eternity long vigil, for, alongside my powers of immortality and obscenely convenient invincibility, I also had unimaginable strength and a burning thirst for justice.

The latter was a developing phenomenon but no less prevalent, especially as the years got along. I would need only haunt the night and shadows once a few decades, to satiate the desire to punish those who would prey upon the weak and helpless. As the centuries passed, however, the time I could stave off the hunger and fury became shorter and shorter. Indeed, I once suffered the consequences of waiting too long when, finally, my mind snapped under the pressure of my desires. I sought something, anything, that needed correcting and justice. A corrupt governor, who had been housing me at the time, and his guard fell to my blade in the dead of night. It wasn't intentional (technically) and I had to escape in the dead of night lest I be hunted to the ends of the galaxy. I mean, I still _was _hunted, but that was only for a century or so. I guess they eventually thought I had died and gave up.

On that day I swore to never place myself in such a situation, for while that action satiated my immediate need for justice, it also through a world undeserving of such a fate in bloody and violent rebellion.

So, every night, no matter where I was staying, I would escape in the dead of the local equivalent of night and find unsuspecting prey.

Time was short, but I had already memorized the work-shift patterns and if I wished to catch a criminal at the end of their shift being sloppy, I needed to move.

Stripping away my far more audacious attire, I uncovered the dark cloak I had taken to using when acting upon my darker desires. With little preamble, I flipped the cloak around my shoulders and pulled the hood over my head. Adjusting the cloak so that it was neither too tight nor too loose, I finally grabbed my favoured weapon. At first glance, it was a simple, if roughly designed, sword. However, if someone were to know its history, they would decry me as a heretic. See, my fight with that Night Lord had seen my own blade destroyed, so it only seemed right to take it's in return. Sure, the weapon is quite large and certainly too much for a normal human to use, but I was far from a normal human. My enhanced strength in times of need made using the ancient weapon exceptionally easy.

It was twice the length of my arm and a dull grey. The weapon had once had a number of skulls and the iconography of the Night Lords etched into the handle, but my first order of business had been to remove those. As amusing as the irony of using the weapon of a Night Lord to purge the unworthy and the degenerate would have been deeply amusing, I did not need the reminder of my poor decisions reflected back at me during every fight.

My dreams did that enough on their own, thank you.

Hefting the weighty blade, I slipped from my room and made the arduous journey to the lower levels of the cruiser.

The haunter of the night was on the prowl.

* * *

The first potential prey came not thirty minutes into my travels, a record had it not been ideal. It was a loaner and some poor sod that decided to borrow more than he could pay back. Loan sharks and loaners were hardly worth my attention or pity, the latter made the decision of their own volition. I would not clear up this misunderstanding with my sword, not because the night haunter was picky but mostly because I, personally, was.

So I move on, slipping from shadow to shadow with such practised ease I must have looked like one with the darkness. Perhaps it was not a far off observation, I had quite the affinity with stealth, as I had discovered in the centuries after my self-imposed exile.

Being sneaky was quite useful when spiriting away the rare morsel of food or water to ensure I didn't die in some underhive.

My hearing, which became more enhanced the longer I did not satiate the maddening desire for justice, picked out screams some way from my current position, cutting through the endless maze of halls. With a grin I could only assume would make the greatest Commisar soil himself in fear, I bound down the halls with a skip in my step.

The source of the screams was not hard to find; a young woman in the tattered uniform of a voidsman was struggling futilely against the salacious actions of her soon to be former crewmembers. The stench of alcohol certainly explained the two men's failed inhibitions, and the young woman was certainly not hard on the eyes, but the desire for justice in my heart found any excuse that could come up for with what they were trying to do wanting.

Without a word, I dashed across the expanse of the deck between myself and the nearer of the two voidsmen. The only warning he received was the barest whistle of my blade sailing towards his neck. The man's jeers and laughter were cut short roughly the same moment as his head. His now opened arteries sprayed both his victim and partner in blood, stunning them into silence as they attempted to register what had just happened.

They seemed to notice me after a long three seconds, standing over the duo with what I could only hope was an intimidating look upon my face. There were no proper words I could use to properly describe my feelings when I killed that man, the pleasure of satisfying my 'kill-boner' briefly overriding my common sense. In fact, I stood there inert for so long that the surviving criminal had wizened up and took off down the passage, screaming in a distinctly feminine way.

I snapped out of my reverie and flipped my now bloodied sword up, catching it by the back. Despite its immense weight, my unexplained abilities in combat situations were still in full effect. So when I threw the sword, it sailed like it had been fired from the bolter of an Adeptus Astartes. The man was not just stopped by the blade, his entire chest seemed to have been obliterated as the sword just kept going through his back and out his front. The gurgles of agony were like music to my ears, though some sane and logic portion of my brain reasoned that I would not be so pleased with this in twenty minutes. For the moment, I opted to ignore the voice and approach my rapidly dying prey.

Walking with a jaunty little gait, I retrieved my bloodied sword as if it weren't covered in the viscous gore from some poor, drunken fool. I gave the man's body a good kick, thankfully not obliterating it and coating myself in more gore. Already, it seemed that my powers were waning so it was time to beat a heated retreat.

I passed by the woman, who had not moved despite sitting in a pool of blood from one of her assailants.

Pausing, I study her for a moment. She was trying, with limited success, to cover her unmentionables, but my libido for the last ten-thousand years could be described most accurately as 'no existent'. I was not attempting to study her supple form, instead scouring her for signs of harm. Besides what seemed to be old scars and the clear trauma at seeing two grown men easily dispatched, the woman seemed fine.

"I suggest making yourself decent," I warn like I am merely scolding her as a father would his child, "I will not be there to save you again."

Feeling my work to be done, I escaped into the shadows once more. The woman's horrified gaze followed me as far as her human eyes could see before she seemed to come back to reality.

Her screams of horror were certainly not as pleasing as those by her attmepted rapist.

* * *

**Two days before the attack upon the cruiser "Bane of Traitors"...**

Another day, another pair of unexplained murders. Abria could feel her blood pressure slowly, but surely, rising as she took in the murder scene before her. The recording systems for this sector had been shut down as some point, so security was completely useless as usual involving one of Abria's unsolved murders. No one had any leads or clues as to what had occurred here.

That was the _official _mantra, anyway. For once, one of these grisly murders had a witness in the form of a young woman. She was something beyond terrified when she was, fortunately, happened upon by one of Abria's undercover Stormtroopers. He quickly contacted Abria, who arrived posthaste to learn what she could before some custodian staff or Armsmen showed up.

The story the young woman told was certainly interesting, if by interesting one really meant utterly fucking terrifying. The speed and power this supposed phantom possessed surpassed anything a human should be capable with, which meant Abria's fears were being realized: Daemons.

Abria wasn't part of the Ordo Hereticus or the Ordo Malleus and so she was ill-prepared to deal with a daemonic incursion with her present supplies. Stormtroopers might be skilled for baseline humans, but they certainly could not fight daemons with the power showcased here.

"It could be a Xeno?" Wondered the informant, hidden in the shadows nearby. Abria had not heard him arrive, and it annoyed her something fierce to be caught off-guard. Abria scowled at the figure before looking back at the bodies.

"Stay out of my mind, informant, and I doubt it. The voidsman claimed that the assailant was a human male of indeterminate age."

"Certain Xenos look human enough to fool a traumatized woman, Junior Inquisitor." Countered the informant, but Abria had heard enough from the man.

"You are not here to debate with me, informant. Have you anything of worth to say, or are you here merely to undermine me?"

The informant merely chuckled at the accusation, crossing his arms as he stared at Abria.

"Sticks and stones, Junior Inquisitor. My research into the Remembrancer has born fruit, if you can call it that. His luggage was checked and shown to contain a number of data slates and personal effects. Certainly less than what would be expected from a man of his apparent opulence, but nothing suspicious, except…"

"Except?" Abria pressed, feeling she was onto something, now. The murderer had slipped up and left a witness, and if her hunch about the supposed Remembrancer was correct, soon he would be caught.

"Do not think I am damning the man, it could be a simple mistake on the part oft he crew, but there was a hidden compartment in his luggage. There are no reports on what was inside and the man who conducted the investigation went missing 0100 hours after the arrival of the Remembrancer."

"Evidence points to his guilt, then."

"What evidence?"

"Silence, I'm thinking."

Abria began putting together a plan. She needed to investigate the room of the Remembrancer and see what was in this 'hidden compartment', but that would require keeping the man away from his room for long enough… Every social function the Remembrancer attended was also one where Abria was forced to be present, so she could not go then. A trick, something to draw the Remembrancer away…

"Informant, how quickly can you learn the day-to-day activities of the Remembrancer?" Abria demanded, turning to face the shadowed figure once again. He seemed to go deep in thought, rubbing his chin.

"I've observed him since his arrival, as I have all peoples of even semi importance. Barring meals, the Remembrancer leaves his room at the same time in the mid-afternoon to wander for roughly half-hour period. He is a social creature and seems to enjoy speaking to the crew, so I suggest that, if you wish to go through with this harebrained idea, you check the room then."

Abria beamed a little more brightly, perhaps things were starting to look up for her now.

* * *

A growing dread had begun to take hold in my mind. The memory that I just couldn't grasp was seeming to grow in importance within the depths of my subconscious, overtaking even my unending desire for justice. A surprise, but it served to worry me more than the relief that I did not kill this night did to calm me. Something was coming, and it would decide something of great importance. My typically finicky precognition, however, told me no more than that.

So, it was with those thoughts that I decided not to leave my cabin to speak with the crew and instead pace about, attempting to see through the murkiness that had become my mind.

I had experienced such things in the past, and indeed they had served to help me in most cases. However, each of them seemed to be as much a trap as they were a boon.

One such situation was regarding a disguised Inquisitor who had been working against a Genestealer Cult. The same feeling, which I realized after the fact was about the Genestealers, made me believe for a period that the Inquisitor was out to kill me. I mean, technically he _was_, but again someone seemed of the idea that my arrival meant I was somehow involved with a crime I wasn't even aware of at the time.

He and I eventually cleared things out and tore the Cult down (With substantial help, but the report didn't say that). I, the great Remembrancer, left with my 'record', and the Inquisitor was probably executed at a later date.

Back to the present, the murky warning came to me once more. One danger was clear, that Inquisitor. Of course, that was insinuating she was an Inquisitor and not just a clever cover for the real Inquisitor so that they might operate with impunity. It was a very Inquisitorial thing to do, especially if it is involving those series of grisly murders prior to my arrival.

Why, even the man checking my luggage was a cultist! Of course, no dark follower can breathe in the vacuum of space, so he was dealt with post-haste.

My spirits plummeted once more as I remembered the reason I was reminiscing: the warning. Back to the Inquisitor, for whatever reason, the girl had taken me as a potential threat, if her glares were anything to go by. I wasn't completely certain, but my running hypothesis is that a number of the guards present on these levels were Inquisitorial Stormtroopers. I didn't really have any concrete to go off of, but the discipline and precision of some Armsmesn seemed distinctly out of place.

The other threat I was aware of was the Chaos Cult located somewhere within this Cruiser, though where or who remained a mystery. I still held my skills as a spymaster from all those Millenia ago, my mind seemed incapable of forgetting anything, so it wouldn;t be too far of a stretch for me to find the cult myself. However, I really didn't want to have a run-in with the Inquisitor, be it the girl or whoever was pulling her strings, who already wrote me off as a threat. For the time being, I was not going to act. I learned to treat these feelings with a grain of salt. I would just enjoy not having to go on a murder spree for a few hours and relax.

* * *

**One day before the attack upon the cruiser "Bane of Traitors"...**

I am a social creature, it was a trait I had developed over the several thousands of years I had been alive. So, when I decided to lock myself in my room for the better part of the previous day and the first half of the next, I had expected the only issue I would need to deal with was my usual murder-boner and anxiety.

Of course, I forgot the part where I persisted off of the company of others.

"Damn it all, why couldn't I have just been a damn hermit…" I muttered, leaving my room in search of the mess hall to talk with the boisterous and generall jovial voidsmen elsewhere on the ship.

* * *

It was nearly a full two days after her original planning that Abria could even investigate the Remembrancer's room. Evidently, her informant's observations were not completely correct, as the Remembrancer spent the entire day and half of the current locked in his room. When the man _had _left, his already pale features seemed to have lost even more colour. Even his usually flamboyant clothing seemed ruffled as if the man hadn't been looking after himself.

_We've spooked him. _Abria thought victoriously as she slipped her way over to the door. Much to her surprise, it was unlocked. What kind of amateur left the room containing (possibly) sensitive information unlocked and open to anyone?

Abria didn't let doubt cloud her mind, this 'Remembrancer' would be investigated regardless of his innocence.

The interior was spartan and bare of personal effects, a surprise given the man's general eccentricities. It did further lend credence to her running theory that the man was not a Remembrancer, however.

Abria began to search the room for any clues as to who this Remembrancer was, but the search was a quick affair. All his luggage was stacked off in one corner, barring a case beneath the bed.

The boxes in the corner held a number of data slates and extra clothing, none of which was very damning. Indeed, each of the data slates held countless records dating back- Abria's eyes bulged as she rea the latest date on the slate she was holding: 444.M35. A record from the thirteenth Millenium?! It wasn't even all that important! The record was a dry retelling of a rebellion on some world Abria was unfamiliar with. She knew the Remembrancers were supposed to be glorified scribes, based on the ancient and, to be honest, poorly maintained records. It made her wonder what happened to their guild, this one Remembrancer kept better records than the entire Administratum…

Seeing as the other boxes held the same as the first, clothing and data slates, Abria went to the case, pulling from the under the bed. It was simple, without any major imperfections or changes along its surface. It was a dull grey and clearly coated in some sort of protective metal. The first sign something was amiss, however, was when Abria attempted to lift the case. Keyword there being: tried. It seemed to weigh a ton and it did not long to discover the reason. Rather plain personal effects were arranged on top, but by feeling along the inside of the case Abria found the clasp to unlock the top layer. With some trouble, she revealed the interior.

And she smiled.

"Got you."

* * *

**The day of the attack upon the cruiser "Bane of Traitors"...**

Abria could barely contain her excitement as she sat in the dining hall the evening after her discovery. The usual sycophants were all present, Humatiel seated at the head of the table. They all spoke jovially, completely unaware of what was coming. Indeed, only five people in the room had any idea of what was going to occur within this room. All four guards, barring Humatiel's duo, were disguised Stormtroopers. Her informant had ensured the work schedule would be changed to make certain that her men were present.

Conversations continued even as the food was served, Abria trying to join in but far too excited to properly be involved with talking to the fools. Fifteen minutes after the meal started, when Abria began to wonder if the 'Remembrancer' would ever show up, the door slid opened to reveal the usually flamboyantly dressed man.

The Remembrancer was looking anything but flamboyant tonight, however. His pale features had drawn even closer to white, making his angular face seem more skeletal in appearance. From his hair, which had become unkempt and mismanaged, to his ruffled clothing, something had clearly spooked the Remembrancer. This confused Abria, if hew as aware or somehow suspicious that she was on to him, why bother to show up?

"Ah, master Remembrancer… Are you alright?" Even Humatiel seemed to notice the man's disposition. In an instant, the Remembrancer straightened and fixed his usually aloof, detached smile.

"Admiral, my apologies. I did not sleep well last night." The smile did not reach his eyes.

"You do not need to join us," The usually pompous fool sounded genuinely concerned, "Perhaps you should retire?"

The Remembrancer took in those present with an unreadable expression before shaking his head and taking the one open chair, which happened to be directly opposite of an increasingly bemused Abria.

"No, something tells me I should be present for this." The man stated cryptically, not touching the food, instead opting to continue his scanning of those in attendance. Abria had already put her faith in this plan, however, and by the Emperor, she would get some answers from this (potential) Heretic! Making eye-contact with one of the guards at the door and nodding, the man slammed his fist on the door twice.

Abria's nerves rose with each passing seconds as the orders were sent and supplies gathered. The Remembrancer, who seemed to have noticed the action, was now staring directly as Abria. This staring contest continued for the remaining five-seconds before the door opened. Silence returned to the room as a pair of guards entered, carrying something obscured by a cloth between the two of them. They forced the woman, located opposite of Humatiel, aside and slid the object across the table. This action knocked everything off that got in the way, eliciting swears and screams as hot food and drink was poured over the laps of several rich and powerful people. Abria cringed, subtly seemed lost on the Stormtroopers, as usual.

The object stopped when it got between Abria and the Remembrancer, the latter of who had caught the still bubbling concoction that had been knocked towards him. Abria rose to her full height as he set the food aside.

"Abria, what in the name of the Throne is this?!" Humatiel demanded as he jumped up from the table, also narrowly avoiding a potential mess on his uniform. His agility was surprising, considering the man's size and general predilection towards slothfulness.

"An interesting question, Humatiel." Abria had rehearsed this little speech for the entire night, "One that should be directed towards our resident 'Remembrancer'."

Abria pulled the cloth, which was in actuality a cloak, free from what was now revealed to be an unwieldy blade. A weapon this size would be a better fit for an Astartes than a man… Though a worshipper of Chaos might be capable of such a feat if they sacrificed enough of their humanity.

"Three nights ago, a pair of murders were committed in the lower levels of the ship. These were the latest in a long and ever-growing list of murders without any witnesses or leads… that is, except this one. You see, this one was witnessed by a young voidsman present during the murders."

"Is there a point to this, girl?" One of the officers demanded, anger slipping to his tone as a serf hurriedly wiped the front of the man's jacket. Abria shot the man an angry glare, one which was returned fully, before continuing.

"You see, this young voidsman recounted to us what she had witnessed, namely the appearance of the murderer. Wearing a cloak of black and armed with an impossibly large sword," Abria indicated to the latter on the table and held up the former, "And a pale, albeit plain face. Now all of this would be… well, meaningless. To find both the murder weapon and cloak would be impossible in a ship this size, especially given that they were so poorly described. However, both of the former objects were discovered in the same place, in the room of a man who happens to match the basic description of the murderer."

All eyes fell on the 'Remembrancer', who looked neither angry nor shocked at the accusation. In fact, the only emotion present on his face was a sort of detached confusion, as if everything Abria just said was more an inconvenience.

The man did not need to defend himself as the Naval Commisar present jumped to his feet.

"You dare accuse a member of the venerate Emperor's Remembrancer Guild of murder, girl?!" The Commissar demanded, his hand sliding over the Powersword at his hip. Abria quickly signalled to her troops to not kill the moron… _yet_, at least.

"I accuse the 'Remembrancer' of more than that, Commissar Azrael. I believe he is part of a Chaos cult located on this very ship and-"

The room erupted into chaos at that, everyone shouting over one another. Several were acting rather aggressively towards Abria whilst others tried to put as much distance between themselves and the Remembrancer in question.

The Remembrancer had gone from looking distantly interested in the goings-on in the room to a far more alert stance. His eyes had cleared and were flicking to parts of the room seemingly at random. His fists were tight on the table, digging into his palms as he seemed to prepare himself for something.

Before the man could act, however, the report of a las pistol brought silence to the room once again.

"I will have silence on my ship!" It was the Admiral, speaking in the voice he used to command his bridge. Gone was the foolish and bombastic Humatiel, replaced now by the far more collected Admiral Humatiel. He holstered the pistol slowly and deliberately, looking from the standing Abria to the still sitting Remembrancer.

"That is a very dangerous accusation you make, Inquisitor." The man's tone displayed no kindness or previous relationship. Indeed, it had been some time since he had ever referred to Abria by her title, "Commisar Azrael is correct; the Remembrancer Guild is one of the oldest and most vaunted functions of the Imperium, enigmatic thought they might be. Do you stand by your accusation?"

Abria looked from the cloak in her hand to the sword to the face of the Remembrancer, which had reverted by to confusion.

Her choice was clear.

"I do."

Humatiel looked to the Remembrancer, who was still staring up at Abria.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Remembrancer?"

The Remembrancer took his time formulating a response, rising slowly to his feet and fixing his colourful attire. The look of bemusement had twisted into a dark amusement. The man, slowly still, placed his hands flat on the table and leaned across, staring directly at was dangerous energy to him, now, a confident and murderous glint to his eyes.

"I-" The man started, but he was not allowed to continue.

An explosion shook the entire ship and threw everyone still standing to the ground in undignified heaps. Not a moment later, alarms began blaring across the ship which were accompanied by the flashing of warning lights.

They were under attack.

* * *

Damn, damn, _damn, __**damn!**_

How could I have been so unbelievably stupid? Some small sense of impending doom-but-not and suddenly I've failed to notice someone had no only broken into my room, but also made off with both my sword and cloak?! What kind of unshakeable master of the shadows must I be if I could be duped by what was, in my eyes, a child! Oh, how my former subordinates in the Ministry must be laughing at me from the Emperor's side...

Now, my foolishness placed me in quite the predicament. There I was, sitting at a table with both the sword that I had used to kill a lot of criminals and the cloak that I wore while doing it, being accused of murder with an eye-witness able to attest to my being there.

No good deed, eh? Still, I could salvage this. I had been in tougher situations, so I could get out of this-

Damn, she just accused me of being a worshipper of Chaos.

I only half-listened to the chaos occurring around me, staring ahead as I planned. Technically, I could just take the sword and kill them all, but damn it all, I wasn't going to kill several (in this one instance) innocent people just to save my own hide!

Already, my mind and body were reacting to the potential threat. My thoughts became faster, yet no less comprehensible, and there was a certain weightlessness to my body now. I was confident that those present could never touch me, and most wouldn't be able to react if I so chose to kill them all- No! Damn my anxiety, I should have indulged myself last night and purged.

While I had been thinking idly to myself, the creeping feeling of doom-but-not, for I had yet to formulate a better manner of describing it, seemed to grow stronger. I took the brief respite from the attention of all present when the Commisar, a man I now felt my respect for growing exponentially, came to my defence to look around the room. I could not see the source, naturally, but it was somewhere beyond this room and closing… _fast._

Attention seemed to have rounded back onto me, clearly, I was expected to defend myself. Well, I'd talked myself out of worse!

Rising to my feet, I formulated the most moving and convincing speech I could create within a period of two seconds. Maybe I could tie blame to the Inquisitor while I was at it…?

"I-" I began, but all my planning came to a grinding halt when the entire ship shook with a titanic explosion. Seeing as I wasn't exactly prepared for such a sudden shift, I slipped to one side and slammed my head unceremoniously into the table.

Stars appeared before my eyes for a moment as I rolled in an undignified mess. Despite my heightened healing abilities in 'fight mode', I was still capable of being injured. The stunned moment passed as my body naturally healed the wound, though the spot of blood remained if my damp fingers were anything to go by.

I rose to my hands and knees as the ringing in my ears came to a stop, though the world continued to spin, and attempted to take stock of what had happened.

The Admiral was already on his feet, it seemed he had only been thrown forwards onto the table and thus came out mostly unharmed, and was barking orders to everyone within earshot.

Indeed, it seemed to naval officers were already on the move. Perhaps the constant jokes against the navy were not completely warranted.

The managed to pull my self to my feet, using one hand to push on the table while the other remained placed over where my wound had been. I needed to get out of here and find the source of my 'visions', sooner rather than later lest it is destroyed in this battle.

"Admiral, if I may have you leave," I put on a fake slur in an attempt to lend credence to my apparent affliction, "I think I'm going to return to my room."

The man's hard glare almost made me drop the act, so vicious and distrusting was it.

"No, you will remain here, Lord Remembrancer, until I can uncover what's really happening here." He directed his next words to the guards in the room, barring his pair, "Watch the Remembrancer and Inquisitor until I can return."

"Sir," The four chorused as the lady Inquisitor, who had risen, looking stunned.

"You can't possibly think-"

"There is a plot aboard my ship, Inquisitor, and I do not know who I can trust. Both you and the Remembrancer are suspicious, as you answer to no one present on this ship." All eyes, again, turned towards the Inquisitor and I. While she flushed, anger and embarrassment on her face, I decided to play up the 'injured' role.

"Okay," I manage, falling into a chair that had remained standing, "I'm just going to take a seat, then…"

With that, everyone present began filtering out. First, the Admiral and his entourage raced for the bridge to take control of the battle. Then, the armsmen and officer went to find their troops, in the event of a boarding. Finally, the civilians went for their rooms to hide.

Soon, all that remained was the four guards, myself, and the Inquisitor, who had retaken her seat across from me. I continued to act as if I weren't truly all there, swaying in my seat and keeping my hand pressed to my 'wound'.

"Do you think you are fooling us, 'Remembrancer'?" Demanded the young woman after several minutes, trying her damndest to sound intimidating. I opted to ignore her, instead swaying more and staring off into space. When I didn't respond, she slammed her hands on the table and leaned across, trying again to make herself seem intimidating. I looked up at her with a goofy smile, my head lolling loosely.

"I'm in a lot of pain," I slurred, slumping further into my seat.

"Get him on his feet," She ordered. Ah, that where the 'us' came into things, likely Inquisitorial soldiers. I waited as one of the men approached me from behind. In the brief seconds took for the soldier to reach me, I took stock of the situation. The Inquisitor herself and two of the guards were across from me, the other two behind. The four guards were armed with autoguns, weak weapons that wouldn't really do enough damage to beat my healing abilities. The Inquisitor herself had a bolter pistol at her hip, which was dangerous if she could draw it fast enough.

I moved the moment I felt the man's hand on my shoulder. Ensuring I didn't use too much strength and brutally murder the soldier, I threw myself back into the man. I grabbed his hand with my own and threw him over my shoulder while twisting. This allowed me to throw him like a ragdoll at the other that had been behind me. While the body flew, the man screaming in shock as he went, I grabbed his autogun and whipped it at the head of one of the two across from me.

All this occurred within a period of two seconds, far faster than the third could react but enough for the fourth to raise his rifle. I ducked low as he squeezed the trigger, managing five shots as I approached the table. Two flew through where I had been standing a moment before. The next tore through the loose cloth right of my chest, but the fourth and fifth managed to hit me. One tore straight through my right bicep, flying out the other end. The last slammed into my chest, becoming lodged in the mess of organs inside. If I were a regular human, that would have stopped me where I stood. However, I was no normal human.

Pushing with might left shoulder, I threw the table up and at the remain two assailants. Two more cracks from the autogun followed before the Inquisitorial trooper was knocked down by the table.

The Inquisitor, much to my surprise, had the reaction time fast enough to duck under and draw her bolt pistol. I was already on her, however. As she levelled the weapon, I grabbed her hand and pushed it wide. The pistol discharged, inadvertently pushing the weapon even wider. It was my grip on the Inquisitor's wrist that stopped her bolter from flying too far. Use my far more stable footing as leverage, I pulled the woman closer to me before slamming my elbow, as gently as I could manage as to not kill her, into her temple.

In an instant, she crumpled to the ground. I let my hand slide up to her bolter as she fell, grabbing the weapon from her already loosening grip.

I flipped the bolter pistol around as I could hold it properly only to find the weapon was _ridiculously _small.

"They make bolters this small?" I asked no one in specific, seeing as I was the only person conscious in the room. Opting to still take the weapon as a backup, I grabbed my sword and cloak from where they now sat on the ground after my aggressive table-flipping. FLipping the cloak around my shoulder, I checked once more that all five of the Inquisitorial representatives were unconscious before leaving the room with all haste.

I needed to get aboard whatever was attacking us, there was this feeling that all hinged on my doing that. For that, I would need transport; what good luck it was, then, that a series of troop transports were present in the hangar bays of the Cruiser.

The months I had spent on this ship paired with my somewhat eidetic memory allowed me to find the most expedient way to reach the nearest hangar bay.

Before I could deal with all that, however, information of great importance remained in my room, that which I was not looking to lose.

A second explosion shook the entire ship, again nearly throwing me off my feet. I had managed to catch myself on a wall, but a sense of foreboding had begun to creep up my spine. Not the same premonitions of my target, there was something dark and evil aboard the ship now.

"Guess I found why the Inquisitor was here…" I reasoned to myself as an age-old evil made itself known to the ship and any who were listening through the warp. My need to get off this damnable ship increased thrice-fold, so my run changed to a dead sprint.

Best make use of my enhanced strength for the moment.

I rounded a corner, forced to slow down a bit so as not to crash into the metal wall before something flashed in front of me. My instincts kicked in aeons before my mind could, forcing me into a slide on my knees. What I now recognized as some sort of weapon fire hurtled over my head and crashed into the corner I had just avoided. With my momentum sufficiently cut, I rolled over my shoulder and got back to my feet all in one quick movement.

Before me stood a quartet of what I easily recognized as Xeno forces.

Eldar, more specifically.

I had a few run-ins with the enigmatic race before now, of course. A being cannot travel the galaxy for ten-thousand years without ever having sight nor sound of the Eldar. I couldn't exactly say I was able to recognize which of their craftworlds each range of colours came from, but the pure black and bone white made me suspect Ulthwé.

Neither side spared any words of warning or threats, they seemed to immediately mark me as a threat and I was not exactly itching to get hit by their shuriken weapons.

As their weapons came to life, I rushed to the nearest of the Xenos. It tried to jump back, evidently not expecting me to be as fast as I was, but it was too late. I grabbed the barrel of its rifle and kicked it down the hall with all my might. It managed only a grunt before a sickening crunch cut it off.

Using the rifle as a projectile itself, I hurled the weapon into the head of the next Xeno. Alas, they proved to be far faster than humans, for it ducked beneath my thrown projectile and raised its rifle to fire again.

A pity that my draw was faster, and despite the diminutive stature of my looted bolter pistol, it was still a _bolter_. A deafening shot rang out and the entire right side of the Xeno's upper torso was eviscerated.

That left me with two hostiles, both of whom had long since brought their weapon about and were trying their damnedest to hit me. It was not to be as I deftly rolled aside of their blast, faster than even their heightened abilities could follow. For a moment, I debated using my sword for a far more stylistic finish to this short fight, but time was of the essence. I knew not why these Xenos were attacking the Cruiser, nor their end goal, but certainly wanted to be far away when it came to fruition.

As I fired twice in rapid succession for the bolter pistol, I came to realize that my quarry, or perhaps target, was aboard whatever ship these Xenos arrived aboard. Boarding it would be a challenge, the Eldar were infamous for how slippery they were, but I would deal with that issue when I reached the hangar. First, however, I needed to reach my room and collect some necessary information I didn't exactly wish to lose.

I rose as the bodies of the remaining two Xenos collapsed, their heads smoking wrecks due to the explosive force of the bolter. Just as I made to leave, a pained voice called out in what I could only assume to be a challenge. Whirling about, I spotted the Eldar I had been fairly certain had its chest crushed by the force of my kick. Indeed, it was carrying itself like it was in an extreme amount of pain, so maybe my observation wasn't completely off. I had to give the Xeno a small, but grudging, amount of respect, very few beings could stand and walk, little more than fight, after a hit like that.

I was one of them, but that was technically cheating as I was functionally invincible in combat.

The Xeno held a blade in the hand not clutched to its chest, another challenging tone echoing through the hall. I debated, for a moment, just shooting it and moving on, but… Ah, fuck it. This tough bastard at least deserved a proper send-off.

I holstered my stolen bolter, by which I mean tucked it in my belt, and brought my unreasonably sized blade up. Neither of us moved for a period, staring one-another down even as the ship seemed to fall apart around us.

It likely knew that fighting aggressively against me would never work and I had a certain theatric quirk that told me waiting for a period was rather cool. So really, we were both grox-brained morons in this situation.

Finally, I launched my attack in the form of a vicious slash horizontally. The Xeno tried to parry my strike, its manoeuvrability severely hampered by its shattered ribs, but the issue was the power disparity between the two of us. Its guard crumpled in the face of my strength, throwing the Xeno into the wall to my left. The odd angle of its neck and the resulting crunch made it quite clear this Xeno was dead.

Anticlimactic as that fight was, I couldn't say it wasn't what I was expecting. I sheathed my sword and continued my sprint, leaving the dead Xenos where they lay.

My trek finally led to me revealing my room, as well as a pair of armsmen that had been cleaved in two by something large and immensely strong. I was not exactly itching to fight whatever might have been capable of this, the Eldar were strong but not _that _strong, so I got into my room with all due haste.

The interior was as I had left it; a complete disaster. This morning's rummaging after I had realized someone had been inside, with the proper context, felt almost childish now.

Just to be sure, I checked the hidden compartment of my case and, as I expected, found it devoid of my sword and cloak. Obviously, I was wearing both of them, but that did tell me I needed to switch up the manner in which I hid things. Eventually, the same hiding place had to fair.

That wasn't why I was here, however, for hidden in one of the containers of my life's work was an especially important dataslate, one which had very special meaning for me.

Digging around for a moment, I pulled free the oldest and most decrepit slate, sticking it into the inner pocket of my cloak for safekeeping. Promising myself and my dear records that I would return for them, I may not actually be a Remembrancer but I had the mindset, I left my room once more.

The hallway was still empty, barring the pair of cooling cadavers, and the sounds of battle were far off. I set off in the direction of the hangar at a sprint, time was still short and I needed to get to the Aeldari craft soon.

At a junction, however, my luck finally failed me. On one side, the left path: the Inquisitor and her group of Inquisitorial troops, and on the right: a squadron of Eldar Aspect Warriors, though my untrained mind could not tell me _which._

These sorts of things were always made difficult with the ever-changing colours of the Craftworlds.

I figured the Inquisitors would be far more interested in dealing with the Xenos than me, so I lept to the side into the Eldar's numbers. Before anyone could so much as blink, I managed to decapitate two of the five Eldar with a single swipe. This action granted two of the remaining three a moment to jump back and put some distance between us, but the final did not seem so keen of the idea of retreat. Instead, it launched itself forward, sword in hand. Red plume… Ah, yes, Howling Banshees or some such, I remember them as a rather popular path for Eldar to follow, or something of the sort. I tried to deflect its sword, expecting that despite its skill, mine was greater. Imagine my pleasant surprise when it switched directions halfway through the swing and ran its blade through my lower gut.

I gasped, pain lancing through me for a brief moment, especially as the Xeno dragged the sword through my side to get free. Such a wound would have killed a normal human, or basically anything else, but already I could feel my skin desperately stitching itself together.

The Xeno jumped back with its sword still raised, professionalism I could respect. Until the enemy was on the ground, cold and unmoving, there was no reason to assume it was dead. A proper decision, as I was far from dead. I smiled and gave my sword a flourish, in a way taunting the Eldar. It gave a battle cry, a sound that made me uncomfortable if nothing else, and lunged with a vicious slash. This I did parry, waiting until there was no time to redirect before launching a strike of my own. The Eldar ducked and tried to plunge its sword into my chest. This time I was forced to jump back, causing my rapidly healing side to scream in agony.

Finally, everyone else present seemed to catch up. The bark of Xeno and human weapons filled my ears as lances of red and white howled past. My foe and I paid them little attention, so involved were we in our battle-

The Eldar stumbled, two red blasts of energy slamming into its back. Taking my chance, I drove my sword up and into the neck of the falling Xeno.

I flipped the Xeno over and pulled my blade from its neck, letting its dying Xeno fall to the floor and bleed out. I took stock of the loses; the other two Eldar had fallen at the cost of a single Inquisitorial trooper. I wasn't expecting that, though I suspect the shock of me throwing myself at the Eldar served as enough of a shock to allow the Inquisitorial troops to win handily.

The hum of three lasrifles and a laspistol told me I was no longer seen as a convenient ally. I turned, slowly, to face the group fully as I sheathed my sword. When my weapon was situated, I raised my hands to show I was unarmed.

"Can we talk about this?" I asked with a coy smile. None of the Inquisitor forces returned it, clearly unamused with my attempt at levity.

"You did not seem so tempted to speak earlier, traitor." The Inquisitor herself retorted with her las pistol pointed directly between my eyes. I gave a slightly sheepish shrug, hands still raised unless they took my harmless gesture as an attempt to kill them all, or something.

"I won't defend my actions, I just knew I wasn't going to leave there alive, but now we've all got common enemies," I explained, indicating to the ship as another, smaller, explosion rocked it.

"I think we can take on a few Xenos." The Inquisitor countered as the troops fanned out around her.

"Xenos aren't the main concern," I responded, my jovial tone taking a more serious edge, "Can't you feel it? The creeping dread? The anger and fear rising in your hearts? Something a lot crueller and ancient is wandering these halls now, Inquisitor."

Her eyes widened and her face paled, the realisation of what I was describing hitting her like a Leman Russ. Instantly, her eyes began to scour the area around her as if a daemon would make its appearance the moment I finished speaking. In actuality, I was lying through my teeth. Most daemons, at least those that could be summoned by non-psykers, weren't near strong enough to give off an aura of that level. I would know, I've had more than a few run-ins with their lot. Daemonettes, Nurglites, some screeching furry of Tzeentch, I've seen them all. Sure, some people could tell what they were dealing with just by the energy they gave off, but I lived by the idea that a daemon is a daemon, regardless of who it serves.

"How could you know that?" The Inquisitor was still playing devil's advocate, trying her damndest to not believe me for whatever reason. Typically, the Ordo Hereticus and Malleus were itching to bash some daemons and heretics.

"I may not look it, but I've faced more than my share of daemonic incursions. Experience tends to make one more conscious of the fiends. Come on, we haven't much time until the daemons overrun this Cruiser, and I don't want to be here when they do," I warn before turning down the hall. The Inquisitor, who seemed to be trying to disprove my belief that she may actually be an Inquisitor with every word, spoke up before I could get more than a couple of paces down the hall.

"Wait! What do you mean 'until the daemons overrun the ship'?! Are you saying that we can't hold it?" I turned, slowly, and stared at the woman as if she just grew another head. Did she seriously believe that a few hundred armsman and voidsmen could hold off a daemonic incursion?! Only the incredibly dumb or immensely naive would believe that, without Guardsmen or significant anti-daemon weaponry, they could-

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I bemoaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. At the group's confused glance, I indicated towards the 'Inquisitor' with disdain, "You're not even a real Inquisitor, are you?"

"Junior Inquisitor, sir," Supplied one of the soldiers helpfully, not reacting to what the Junior Inquisitor seemed to think was a frightening glare.

"Junior?" I repeated tonelessly, "_Junior?!_ Oh great, a greenhorn… As I was saying, if you want to fight the horde, then by all means. That is… Quick question, can you breath in the empty vacuum of the void?"

That certainly did a decent job of silencing the woman, though based on the look she was giving me she would have much rather kept arguing with me.

"I suppose not. So, I think is in all of our," I indicated from myself to the _Junior _Inquisitor and her party, "best interest to get off this ship and, preferably, as far as possible from it. As it just so happens, I already have a plan in order to do just that. See, there is a large, daemon-free Aeldari ship just outside, and unless my ears deceive me they have stopped firing."

Indeed, the cruiser was no longer shaking under the precise fire of the Xeno ship, which hopefully meant they were sitting still long enough for me or whoever pilots the shuttle to crash into their hangar.

"You want to escape the daemons by boarding a Xenos ship?!" Evidently my genius plan seemed so insane to their simple, mortal brains that one of the disciplined Inquisitorial troops broke character.

"Yes." I answered with my brightest smile, finding it slightly amusing as the entire stance of the group before me shifted once again. What started as guarded, as I had been a perceived threat, had changed over the course of talking to a more relaxed stance. The moment I finished reciting my grand plan, the stance changed back to the first.

Some people just can't understand brilliance.

"Okay, I'll bite, why?" Ground out Junior, who I had begun taking to calling her in my mind.

"You see, Junior-"

"Never call me that ever again."

"-The Eldar might be vile, cruel, slippery bastards, but they have one thing in common with us."

"Are you insinuating that filthy Xeno-" Junior started, likely building up to whatever the Ordo Xenos or whoever she worked for had taught her. I waved away her words as dismissively as I could.

"Not like that, Junior. They have a sense of self-perseverance. For whatever reason, they aren't spacing the ship right now. They're after something. I say we get over to the ship they _definitely _won't open to the cold embrace of the void while they're distracted. We may die… We'll probably die, but I would sure as the _Emperor's iron abs_ rather be on that Xeno ship, screwing them over in the process."

My words bring pause to the group as they seriously considered by batshit insane plot, not that this was much of a surprise to me anymore. Somehow, when I really set my mind to it, I could convince almost anyone to do almost anything, no matter how ludicrous or contrary to their established beliefs it was.

"In the debate of the lesser of two evils, I would rather take the latter. Very well, Remembrancer, we will support you in your plan." Junior decided, clearly the leader despite the relative disparity in age and, from my trained eye, skill. How the Inquisitor threw out such fiercely loyal soldiers as cannon-fodder earned them a small amount of my respect.

I grinned beatifically at them, a sight that seemed to unsettle more than I was intending. I gave my sword an experimental twirl before sheathing it once more at my hip, in an actual sheath unlike my still-stolen bolter pistol. That weapon I did draw again and hold for all to see, though that was more to get a reaction than anything else.

"Hey, that's my bolter!"

And at that, I succeeded.

"Not anymore!" The young woman grumbled but seemed to leave the argument lie. Taking that as the chance to leave, I signalled for the group to follow me and took off in the direction the Eldar came from.

My pace was significantly slower now, of course, but was there not an age-old-adage about strength in numbers? That and the cannon-fodder would be damn useful if one of those snake-tongued daemons showed up.

I slow my pace, running through the map again in my head as I came to a junction. Down the tunnel I was _supposed _to go down was the sounds of a firefight, and I didn't exactly have the time to get involved.

Yet, as I stood and deliberated over my next course of action (we either had to go this way or a much longer path around), a presence made itself known upon my conscious. Something dark and not of this realm was coming straight for us and fast, though from where I could not tell. My hesitation seemed to cause no small amount of trepidation among the troops, who had all taken to raising their lasrifles, which I had only now noticed that had begun using instead of autoguns. Good choice, autoguns were utterly useless in this day and age despite what Krieg might claim.

"Junior, tell me, do you have more troops in hiding aboard the ship?" I asked slowly as I pivoted on my heel. Each of the hallways were well illuminated yet did not reveal whatever was stalking us.

"Two more, but one never answered my summons and the other went missing after I confronted you the first time. Also, stop calling me that. If you can't call me by my proper title, Oshanon will-"

"Oh, absolutely not." I responded, my mouth still moving as my mind focused on a far more pressing matter. Junior, bless her soul, seemed completely oblivious to the change in stance of everyone around her.

"Tell me, Junior, did the Ordo Malleus teach you how to fight daemons yet?" I ask slowly, facing away from the girl.

"Ordo Malleus- No! I'm with the Ordo Militum."

Oh fuck.

I lost the chance to respond to that as one of the troops shouted out a warning, giving me ample time to duck beneath the swing of an unseen foe. I twisted as a fell, taking in the daemon in all its horrible glory. The slash that seemed to be meant for me neck instead cut in half my saviour, throwing his bisected body into Junior. She fell, clearly winded by the strike, but I would worry about her wellbeing later. Right now: Daemon.

The monster before me was a titan by human standards and would have been tall even to an Astartes. Its head could scratch the ceiling, and that was while it was slouched over. Its entire form was a lot to take in even for my heightened mind, but I quickly took stock of its features. Its knees were like that of an animal, reversed as compared to a human's. These legs led up to a wide torso and relatively proportionate arms, ending in five-digit hands. The first of its most damning features, however, was the oblong head. Spikes of all manners of size and position adorned its skull, the largest of which would probably be better described as horns sprouting out on either side. Those eyes seemed to hold both an animalistic rage and evil cunning, and they bore straight into my own. Its red skin and massive sword, which made my blade look like a glorified letter opener, told me precisely what I was facing: a bloodletter.

Of course, it had to be Khorne.

With a howl that seemed to be a mix of both rage and deep joy, the monster launched itself at me. I brought my sword up into the path of the aimless attack, nearly thrown to the ground for my effort. With our blades locked, the daemon put its face as close to mine as it could get and not overextend. Its long tongue flickered out and its lips stretched up in a false parody of a human smile.

"_Cuuuurrrsssseeee_." I hissed, barely intelligible yet fully capable of getting its unending hatred across. If I were of a more clear mind, I might have come up with something more clever to respond with.

"Yeah? Fuck you, too." I growled, regaining my footing and pushing with all my might. Despite the size difference, my strength still rivalled the bloodletters. With my forward momentum, I angled my sword to pierce whatever mockery of a heart the daemon had. Alas, it proved too fast for me and dodged to the side, cackling as my blade stabbed through empty air. I felt the flat of its blade, _the flat_, hit me in the back and send me into the wall near the still bewildered and lost Junior.

I hit the wall hard enough to shatter the spine of a normal man, but I escaped as little more than slightly discombobulated. The bloodletter, taking the brief reprieve from its fight with me, launched an assault on the remaining two Inquisitorial troops. The crack of their lasrifles didn't even seem to register to the bloodletter as it cleaved from the duo with a pair of slashes.

Rising to my feet unsteadily, I tried to get my bearings back. I gave my sword an experimental flourish, attracting the attention of the bloodletter again. It roared a challenge before charging with its sword raised. I crouched low, preparing myself for its attack. The second it took for the daemon to cross the distance between us slowed down to a century in my mind, dodging it was child's play when the bloodletter didn't have the advantage of an ambush. I dove to the left, under its arm while swinging at the daemon's leg. My sword passed through the false flesh like it was paper, earning my a pained howl from the daemon as it toppled with only a single leg.

I quickly redirected my momentum to launch myself at the daemon once more. Somehow, it had managed to twist itself around so its back was to the wall, though its sitting position made it nearly impossible to put up a worthwhile defence. With one last howl of defiance, the daemon fell silent as my sword slashed across its neck. Metal shrieked in response, but my sword made a clean cut.

Panting, I stared down at the daemon before me. Like the few other times I've been forced to face daemons, the night haunter roared its pleasure at the death of such a deranged foe. Its body began to sizzle for a second before it vanished before my eyes, dragged back to whichever misbegotten realm it called home.

I remained standing there until the body, and resulting blood, vanished from this realm before I knelt down and coughed. Crimson specks covered the ground, clearly, my organs did not appreciate being thrown into the wall.

"You… You…" I looked left to where Junior and her bisected soldier had been laying, evidently Junior had survived. She was covered in blood with a shocked look on her face, but she seemed fine for the most part.

"Oh, you're alive," I commented easily as if I hadn't just fought a daemon and coughed up blood.

"You killed a daemon!" She exclaimed, indicated where the body had been. I looked to where she pointed, the only evidence of its being there a vicious gash in the wall.

"I didn't exactly kill it, more banish it back to the warp."

"Groxshit, you decapitated it!"

"Do they teach you thing at MP academy?" I asked, sheathing my sword upon finding that even the daemon's blood had vanished. The girl's confused look amused me to no end and when I refused to elaborate she pressed on.

"Then how do you explain its body vanishing?!"

"Do you want me to give you a lecture on the finer details of daemons and the warp, or do you want to get off this ship?" I asked, more than willing to do either were the situation not so dire. Junior gave me a distinctly unamused glare before rising to her feet. She seemed to notice the blood covering her and muttered something distinctly unladylike.

"Wait," She seemed to have noticed all her soldiers were dead, "If we are going through with your insane plan, are we not going to need manpower?"

"We'll deal with that when the time comes," I explained, waving away her concerns as I listened down the halls. The direction that we were supposed to go, where a firefight had been occurring and was pleasantly surprised to find that the fight had ended. We could, probably, deal with whoever won.

"We need to be prepared for more Xenos or worse," I said. In an instant, the bolter pistol flashed up into my grip. I reversed my grip and offered the weapon to Junior, "This will serve you far better than it will me."

If Junior was surprised by my sudden change of mind she didn't show it, accepting the weapon and placing it into the holster still on her hip.

"Okay, what's your plan for getting to the hangar?" She asked. Despite how she might feel about me, Junior seemed to accept my skill and experience in situations such as these.

"We follow this hall until we reach a tram, that tram will drop us off near the hangar. I can figure it out from there." I explained. She gave a nod, fear being replaced by the steadfast confidence I was used to when dealing with the Inquisition. Those bastards might be insane, murderous, and completely lacking in morals, but you can't say they're cowards.

"Lead the way, but if we survive this you will come with me. My Ordo will be most interested in you."

"I make zero promises." Junior gave a defeated sigh as I grinned, she knew full well that she really had no leverage against me.

Without another word, we took off down the hall. Again, my pace was significantly slower to allow Junior a chance to keep up, but we were moving faster without the heavily armed Inquisitorial troops.

The junction where I had heard the firefight came up, bodies of both Eldar and armsmen scattered about. What was surprising was not the bodies, but the fact that the survivors were _all _armsmen.

Several of the group whirled and raised their autoguns to aim at Junior and me, though they seemed to relax when they realized we were human. I put up a hand in greeting, meeting the approaching officer.

"Sir Remembrancer, Lady Inquisitor. I did not expect to see a friendly face," The sergeant stated, signing the Aquila. Junior and I returned the gesture as I took stock of the survivors. A dozen and some armsmen, most armed with autoguns and a couple with lasrifles. Most didn't even have armour, so how in the name of the Emperor did they survive against a well-armed force of Eldar?

"Well met, sergeant. I wasn't aware we had met," I responded diplomatically.

"I wasn't present for your arrival, sir. I hope the enemy hasn't reached so far as the upper decks?"

"I'm afraid so, you are looking at the remnants of our group. The Xeno threat killed the rest." Junior glanced at me, confusion in her eyes. Luckily, they seemed to have trained her somewhat in the Ordo Militum, as the young woman was smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

The sergeant sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

"Damned Xenos. We fought a band of their rabble here if it wasn't obvious." The sergeant indicated to his fallen armsmen, a baker's dozen as compared to four dead Eldar.

"It seems you won," Junior commented, but the sergeant merely shook his head.

"Hardly. I'm not too proud to admit we were losing, bad. For some reason, they just retreated."

"Retreated?" I repeated, if the Eldar were pulling out, that could only mean one thing…

"Aye, sir."

"Damn." I cursed, listening for any sounds of the Eldar ship opening fire again.

"What?" Junior asked with a tone of growing worry.

"That means they've achieved whatever they were here for. They're going to space the damned cruiser." Shouts of shock and disbelief came from everyone within earshot, drawing in the other armsmen.

"How can you be sure?" Asked Junior incredulously.

"No witnesses. Best to not leave a trail for why they attacked. We need to get off of this ship."

"And go where?" The sergeant asked, hopelessness thrown aside in favour of discipline. A pity that did not seem to carry over to his troops, who were all still panicking.

"The one place they can't open to the void, sergeant. We are going to board the Xeno's ship."

"The enemy's ship, sir?" The sergeant asked, clearly confused and wondering about the state of my sanity.

"Better to die killing as many of these bastards as possible, sergeant, then here like animals."

"Then you have out support, sir. Armsmen aren't cowards."

It was, of course, that moment that one of the armsmen broke down into tears.

* * *

The last few hours had been an expectational whiplash for Abria, all culminating into the revelation that she could have very much died if this Remembrancer had so desired her to be. The ease at which he had dispatched the Xenos could have been a fluke. It likely wasn't, but Abria had desperately hoped it was. The man did come from nowhere, so perhaps he had caught the Xenos off-guard.

That was all before they had met the daemon in the hallway. It was a horrid monster and the speed at which it had dispatched one of her soldiers, a man trained for most of his life with the express purpose of combat in mind, in a single stroke. Years of training, gone in a second.

Abria wasn't too proud not to admit to herself that she had frozen in fear. She had never been prepared or briefed on fighting daemons, that wasn't her Ordo's jurisdiction.

They were all going to die, they all _should _have died. Had the Remembrancer not been there, Abria would have died in a heap of body parts, coated in the blood of her dead soldiers, and terrified beyond comprehension. What kind of Inquisitor did that make her if she was shocked into freezing at the first sign of true trouble?

It was luck, pure and simple, that she had rediscovered the Remembrancer, and that he was more than capable of fighting a daemon. The fight had been too quick for her eyes to follow, but it had ended with the man killing his opponent.

What worried Abria, in the brief moment of shock and terror, was not that dead daemon and the implications behind that. No, it was the look in his eyes. This mad hunger, joy unimaginable as if the very thought of killing a daemon brought him more pleasure than any other action.

Maybe it was in that moment Abria knew she could, at least nominally, trust him. He was still suspicious, clearly unhinged, and unbelievably powerful, but the Remembrancer was the only thing able to competently face the daemons.

So she followed him. When he said he wanted to board the Xeno ship, she would follow him. Even if he was clearly lying about his reason to want to board the ship, she would follow him. Even if the longer she spent near the Remembrancer made her feel more and more apprehensive, she would follow him. At present, near the Remembrancer was the safest place to be.

The group continued down the endlessly similar halls in the direction the Remembrancer claimed was the hangar. Just as the man theorized, they didn't come across a single Xeno or sign that anyone had been there. They were abandoning the ship, making Abria wonder what they were here for. Had they been hunting for something and found it, or had the daemons chased the Xenos off?

Finally, the group arrived at the hangar. Evidently, a large battle had occurred here. A number of the transports were in a state of ruin and bodies were scattered in every which direction. The pilots and a number of armsmen seemed to have made their final stands here.

"Room clear, sir." The officer announced as his men reported back, their sweeping of the room admirable despite them being naval armsmen.

The Remembrancer nodded, looking over the transports and shuttles with a critical eye.

"You've found a transport that works, I hope?"

"Aye, sir. Heavy transport over there," The officer pointed off to one side of the hangar, "It's mostly superficial damage, but she'll fly."

The Remembrancer gave a wave towards the transport, "As you were then, Sergeant. I won't get in the way of you and your men."

The officer signed the Aquila before walking away, barking orders at his men to loot weaponry and armour from the dead.

"What exactly is your plan when we board the Xeno ship, Remembrancer?" Abria asked with an innocent expression. The Remembrancer let out a hearty laugh before patting his overly large sword with one hand.

"I've told plenty of stories on this cruiser, Junior. They've all been mostly true, so I might know a thing or two about boarding actions. I have a plan, you just need to worry about staying alive."

And despite everything that had happened over these last few hours, Abria felt a measured amount of reassurance from his words.


	3. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Warhammer 40k or associated properties. Actually, let's be safe and say I don't own anything.**

**A/N: I have combined chapters 3,4, and (part) of the unreleased 5 for a more cohesive story.**

* * *

**The Dawnbringer**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

The Eldar seemed to have planned for a multitude of possibilities, as was expected from a species as slippery as them. Even a daemonic incursion, if their rapid and efficient retreat was anything to go by.

Something consistently overlooked by the Xenos, however, was humanities tenacity and borderline insane fatalism when faced with imminent death. So when a transport hurtled out of the hangar bay of a doomed ship, the Eldar didn't seem to spare it a second thought. That was their first mistake, and as we crashed into their hangar, they made their second.

They didn't space us when they had the chance.

The transport was designed for a singular purpose: dropping forces in heavy combat. With that designation came a collection of specific and useful tools, namely smoke launchers and heavy armour.

It could feel the transport under me slide into the Aeldari hangar, drifting to one side as his legs failed to slow it down. Armsmen didn't make for good pilots, it seemed.

We slowed to a screeching stop and it was only then that I began to hear the sound of the Eldar weapons hitting the armour of our transport with little effect. No dedicated anti-armour batteries yet, then. Good, that would make our job easier.

"Smoke out, move!" The pilot announced, stepping out from the cockpit with lasrifle in hand. The entire group, myself and Junior included, were dressed head-to-toe in a fully enclosed suit with armour plating slung over our vitals, in the off chance the Eldar actually got desperate enough to try and vent us into the void.

The void suits made our already bad manoeuvrability worse, at least compared to the Eldar, but with both the element of surprise and obscene amounts of bloodlust I gave us some pretty good odds.

The ramp less slid down and more flopped to the ground, sending a resounding bang through the hangar. Despite the smoke, some Eldar were still managing to pin down the entrance to the transport.

A pity these armsmen had already seemingly given up on living. The first two out flopped to the ground, either dead or dying under the concentrated fire of the Aeldari defenders. There were simply too many of us and any blasts that hit me really didn't do too much. A horde of olive-green challenged the black-adorned Eldar, and despite the general strength of those damned Xenos compared to a human, these were clearly not soldiers. At least, not marines in the same vein as the armsmen.

Half a dozen dead Eldar at the cost of four armsmen was certainly one hell of a trade. As the regular troops scoured the hangar for other potential threats, I reconvened with the sergeant and Junior.

"We separate into three groups," I explained, "Each team is tasked with cause as much havoc and killing as many Xeno filth as they can. If we can destroy this ship, even better."

"Who's going to head these teams?" That was the sergeant, speaking as professionally as usual despite being faced with his imminent death.

"You lead one, naturally. I'll take another, and a subordinate of yours will take the third."

"Why not the Inquisitor?" The sergeant asked, nodding towards Junior.

"Juniors' made it clear that she is going to be sticking near me so I can't 'slip away' or some such. Do you have a trusted subordinate who can handle command?"

"Aye, sir. He'll be up to the task."

"Good, I'll need three men. Preferably ones who have even a basic understanding of stealth."

"Very good, sir. I'll send some over." With a sharp salute, the sergeant walked away for perhaps the last time. He seemed like a good man, despite the opulence and gluttony of the (likely former) Admiral, he certainly knew how to fill his staff with competent and dependable people.

"I dearly hope you have some plan to get out of this alive, Remembrancer," Junior finally spoke up, her tone attempting to sound strong, though fear still seemed to edge its way in.

"A work in progress, Junior."

"Don't call me that."

"Not going to happen," I responded casually, beginning to like our little bouts of verbal sparring. I, of course, couldn't like it _too _much. I had learned many times over my last ten-thousand years that everyone would eventually pass… Except for me, it seemed. Better to act distant, detached, and unaffected then to see something I began to care for be ripped away by the passage of time.

I blinked before shaking my head, it seemed these pessimistic outlooks were becoming increasingly more common. Try as I might, even I can't always act like the paragon of optimism, it seemed.

* * *

The first loss of the group was just outside of the hangar in the form of an ambush set up by the Xenos. Abria, who had been near the back of the Remembrancer's squad, was sprayed by the blood of the poor bastard.

The armsmen, who seemed to have come to peace with their eventual deaths, just threw a grenade into the room even though the entire group _was still inside_.

"They're going to get us killed," Abria snapped at the Remembrancer in a low tone, watching the armsmen fall upon the discombobulated and injured Xenos. Their inhuman screams of pain certainly made her feel better but did little to dissuade her fear.

"Then we'll just stay back." The man commented lightly. Abria was certain he was grinning but his voidsuit made it impossible to see his expression.

"The Xenos are dead, sir!" One of the armsmen announced, dragging his bayonet from the chest of a dead Xeno. There was a crazed lilt to his tone Abria was certainly not happy about, making her keep one hand on her bolter in apprehension.

"Good! Then we proceed with my plan. Follow my lead and we'll take plenty of these Xenos down with us."

And so they did. Abria tried to understand the techniques and behaviours of the Remembrancer, but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his actions. Some groups, who are smaller and more exposed, he would ignore completely. Others, which were more entrenched, he would attack without warning and with the vicious skill of an Astartes. Each run-in with the Xenos, the Remembrancer would completely alter his approach. He would leave no survivors in one fight, and then in another, he would systematically pick off one Xeno at a time and then leave the last alive.

The only constant was when one of the armsmen died, in which case the Remembrancer would forgo any subtelty and brutally butcher the Xenos.

"A hunter that can bleed can be killed," He had explained cryptically, "They have to think we are untouchable."

And so they were. For what Abria's watch claimed to be two days, they stalked the Xenos within their own ship. Suddenly, Abria was immensely grateful for this man's impossible skill and strength. Let the Ordo take care of his supernatural abilities, for now, she would use them as a shield between her and the Xenos.

At the end of the second day, the last armsman died. His chargeback evidently went empty, as the man decided to charge the Xenos with the bayonet on his autorifle. This immediately drew the attention of the swift Xenos and they cut him down with rapid and precise fire.

That change of target was the last mistake the Xenos made. One found its head blown to pieces from Abria's bolter and the other was brutally bisected by a single swing from the Remembrancer.

"Everything should be moving according to my plan," The Remembrancer murmured cryptically, staring off at a random point in the ceiling.

"Plan? What plan?" Abria demanded as she rose from her kneeling position at the side of the last armsman, "You haven't been very specific about what it is beyond 'kill the Xenos'."

The man chuckled at Abria's attempt to mimic his usually eccentric accent.

"Perhaps it is a little macabre, but I didn't want to give anyone the hope that we might survive when I expected we wouldn't," The Remembrancer explained as he cleaned his sword, "But with just you and I left, I suppose we are safe. My plan has been to strike terror in the Xenos. More than that, I desire to be unexpected. I want them to be guessing where we strike and to show that nowhere is safe. I think, in that aspect, we have succeeded." He finished cheerfully, indicating to the group of Xenos they had just dispatched. They were nearly two dozen in number, wearing a mix of different designs of armour. Abria couldn't claim to be an expert on this strain of Xeno, and good thing too as that would be paramount to heresy, "Which leads into the final step of this little plan!"

Abria looked at the man expectantly as he stared down at her with a toothy grin. It took her a few moments to realize the Remembrancer wanted Abria to _ask _what his _magnum opus _is. Abria debated, briefly, not giving him that small victory and waiting for the man's will to break first. However, they were crunched for time and a man like the Remembrancer doesn't get as old as he (supposedly) is by being impatient.

"Fine, what is your great plan?" Abria asked in a monotone, waving her hands at the 'great plan' part. Her sarcastic tone did nothing to stop the widening of the Remembrancer's smile.

"I knew you would come around. Alright, so the Xenos are running around trying to find us, right?"

"Right."

"Which means they aren't manning the guns on this ship, right?"

"Right?"

"And if this transceiver is correct…" And the man pulled an honest to the Emperor transceiver, likely looted from their transport, from his robes and held it up to his face, "The Admiral already sent out a distress signal to the local system. There is an Imperium outpost on the furthest planet, which has likely already relayed this request to the nearest fleet. All we need to do is wander the halls of this ship until they arrive, take the shuttle, and escape while the Eldar are trying to find us." The transceiver vanished as quickly as it had appeared, though now that she looked for it Abria could see a far more noticeable bulge under his cloak.

"That's it?" Abria demanded, immediately suspicious of the man's motives, "You grand plan is for us to wait for a fleet that may as well never arrive in the first place?!"

The man waved away her concerns, "The Imperial Navy would never pass up an opportunity to kill some Xeno scum."

"Why couldn't we have stayed aboard the cruiser, then?!"

"The same cruiser that the Xenos were likely going to open up to the void?"

Abria pouted- ah, _thought _for a moment, finally coming up with a counter-argument just before the Remembrancer's agitating smile grew even wider.

"I haven't heard any guns firing on this ship."

"You wouldn't, their weapons are generally quiet. Besides, they've been a little busy partly due to the collection of fatalistic, bloodthirsty lunatics." He stated, indicating between the two of them. Abria took offence to the claim that she was on the same level of insanity as the glorified, sword-wielding, scribe, but decided against voicing her complaints. The Remembrancer had (potentially) hundreds of years worth of political doublespeak and noncommital commitments in his mind, enough to ensure that Abria would get nowhere in a hypothetical debate.

By the Emperor did she hate politicians.

"Seeing as you agree that I am right, I believe it is time for us to move along. I'd rather not be caught unawares by the Xenos, that's our job."

Abria only noticed now that the man seemed to grow whimsical the more he killed. That was a… disturbing thought.

Without a word, the duo took off down a hall. The reentered the unending maze of the Xeno ship, their indecipherable language meaning nothing to Abria but apparently at least somewhat legible to the Remembrancer. Yet another Ordo that would be interested in having a few choice words with the man, though it had become Abria's task to ensure the Ordo Militarum would have control over any information the man gave. They at least had some level of sanity left in them, a trait Abria was certain the Ordos Malleus and Xenos had lost many millennia ago.

The duo followed a dizzying amount of hallways until, without warning, the Remembrancer rounded on Abria and threw her into a wall. The breath was forced from her lungs and for a terrifying moment, Abria feared the Remembrancer was betraying her. A dazzling blast of light streamed through the place where the duo had been standing a mere moment before, the Remembrancer having dodged to the other side.

"Face me, scum!" The Remembrancer, despite his initial abhorrence to being caught off-guard, cackled gleefully as he hurled himself at the shapes at the end of the hall. The bright blasts of energy from the Xenos' weapons either missed the madman entirely or did nothing but tear into his already damaged clothing. As his sword violently dissected two of the Xenos, Abria managed to pull herself back to her feet. Her bolter, which had somehow managed to remain in her grip despite the hit, was levelled at the crowd of Xenos. It seemed to be a pointless gesture, the lot of them were engaged in a brutal melee now with the Remembrancer, more desperately trying to survive his unending onslaught then actually fight back.

All but one. Off to the side, a single Xeno had noticed Abria and raised its alien rifle at her. Abria was as quick a draw and fired off a shot from her bolter. The Xeno dodged, _dodged_, the shot by twisting to one side. Before Abria could bring her bolter back down, her small stature and lacking strength baring its ugly head, the Xeno fired.

Three shots rang out over the sound of battle, three shots before the Remembrancer realized what was occurring and launched himself at Abria's attacker.

He was three shots too late.

The first ripped through Abria's armour like it wasn't even there, earning an agonized scream as her gut was torn apart. The second landed slightly higher, stealing Abria's breath once again. The last went higher than that, and she knew in an instant it had severed something with her heart. She toppled instantly, her legs losing all their strength as her body tried, in vain, to keep her alive.

The Remembrancer was at her side in an instant, all battle lust lost and replaced by a panicked worry.

Abria couldn't speak, the shock of her pain making that a difficult task.

"Damn…" The man managed, checking her wounds with an expert's eyes, "Left lung punctured, intestines shredded, Emperor-knows whatever happened to your heart. I'm sorry."

Abria could only stare up, her mind not quite comprehending what those words yet accepting them all the same. She didn't struggle, her body would have refused to listen even if she wanted to stop the bleeding, so all Abria could do was stare up at the concerned face of the Remembrancer.

There was a thoughtful look in his eyes, cutting through the concern and fear. The Remembrancer put his hand on her shoulder, his expression becoming resolute and… proud?

"I am not your superior, but I think in this instance we won't stand on ceremony. You have served the Emperor well, giving all you can. With the power invested in my and my Ordo, I name you Inquisitor Abria Oshanon of the Ordo Militarum. May the Emperor guide you in death as he has in life."

What? He was an Inquisitor?

No. No, he was lying. It was an attempt to make her feel better in her death, to make her feel at peace. It was… Not so bad. Maybe she could pretend, for this moment, he was an Inquisitor. For a moment, she had completed her mission and became a full Inquisitor.

It was a good thought.

* * *

Abria fell still five-minutes after she was wounded, dying in my arms with a peaceful expression on her face, despite the obvious pain her injuries caused her. I sighed, setting the young woman back on the ground.

The last of my company had passed on, their souls joining the Emperor. I wasn't so naive as to believe the Sergeant's band or the third had lasted this long, meaning it was likely I was the last human aboard this accursed ship. In a way, that worked to my advantage. No more people to keep safe, no more facades to keep. I fully intended to butcher every single one of these Xenos, or at least as many as could found, but I couldn't help but begin to feel how crushingly alone I was again.

I pulled Abria's bolter free of her hand before closing her eyes, it was time to move on. I rose from her body and left without a second glance.

There were still Xenos to kill and I could sense my target elsewhere on the ship, hiding no doubt. A far more feral part of my mind came to the front, it was time for the night haunter to hunt.

* * *

My purge of the Xeno ship lasted for a time after Abria's death, though how long was now a mystery to me. The passage of time became something of an abstract though the further into the persona of the night haunter I went. It didn't truly matter in the end, I could have been there for hours, days, months, or years and I would care no more or less. It was a strange state of mind I fell in when I was forced to rely entirely on the night haunter, when my silver tongue and sharp wit would no longer be of assistance. The last time I fell into this state would have been three-hundred years ago when I was caught in the midsts of an Ork crusade, or 'Waaagh' as such a crude race calls it.

They had overrun the station I was housed in and so I was forced to take matters into my own hands. It was a span of two years that I hunted the Orks on the planet, pushing their Warboss to the closest thing and Ork can call terror.

That was then, however, and my mind needed to remain in the now. The Eldar were far more crafty than the Orks, so I could not make a mistake lest they catch me out. I was _technically _unkillable, but that did not mean I was itching to jump in front of a Leman Russ Executioner's main cannon to test the extent of that.

My musings were stopped as I was forced to block a desperate swing by my latest foe. He, at least I assumed it to be a he, seemed to be in charge of this Xeno ship. The rest of the crew lay dead around us, killed several minutes ago. Indeed, whoever this officer was had lasted for several minutes against me. They were quick and clearly experienced with their sword but in the game of endurance, I was always going to win.

I let his latest strike slide down my blade and force the Xeno to stumble. This allowed me a moment to twist around him and slash his back. The last sound the Xeno made was a choking gasp before his body fell apart. I rose back to my feet and sheathed my sword, letting the night haunters contentment wash over me as I took stock of my situation with a more clear-minded eye.

Logic dictated that there was really no threat to my escape left. I could easily take the heavy transport shuttle to the other side of the system. However, my doom-but-not feeling was growing exponentially. Whatever I was hunting, whatever was a true threat to me and my plans were elsewhere on this ship… Which was strange because I didn't really have a plan in the first place beyond surviving. Maybe it was a threat against that…?

I shook my head and focused on the presence, namely where it was. Doing this roused the night haunter's animalistic attention to a fevered pitch. The night haunter was itching to make this threat-but-not repent for daring to threaten me (and killing the mostly innocent crew of the Imperium cruiser, but less so).

Stepping over the fallen officer, I left the bridge and began following the figure. It wasn't moving, that much was obvious, and the closer I got the more excited I grew. Well, not I, more the night haunter. I, the mind and personality of Adrian, became more apprehensive. Whatever I was fast approaching was very powerful, more so than the daemons back on the Cruiser or the best the Xenos had on this ship.

My path led me to a massive blast door, clearly locked down to keep me out. I shook my head in wonder, lifting my sword and placing it at where the two doors met. With a not-insignificant amount of effort, I forced my sword between the crack. The whine of metal scrapping along the pale, white walls of the Xeno ship was like music to my ears. Sure, my blade was becoming ridiculously dulled from this effort, but a heavy piece of metal still made for a decent weapon.

I then turned my sword, slowly forcing the two doors apart. It took considerable strength on my part to do that and earned me a series of blasts to the chest as the Xenos on the other side opened fire. Despite my ability to heal, I could still feel the abject agony as the shots ripped through the tattered remains of my clothing and into my chest. The force of the shots sent me to the ground, where I remained as my lungs refused to properly breathe.

I could hear the Xenos inside talking to themselves, not that I could understand a word they were saying. I never really learned to understand their tongue, mostly because understanding the Xeno was both impossible and heretical to the extreme.

As I lay in a puddle of my own blood, the door opened and let my sword drop to the ground. By this point, my wounds had already been knitted shut and air was flowing to an extent through my lungs. Despite this, I began gasping and making the sounds of a man choking on his own blood, this seeming to lure the Xenos from their room.

Two approached one with a sword and another with one of their strange rifles. They were still speaking in their tongue, staring down at me from behind their masks. I glared with as much hatred as I could despite the fact that I was 'dying'. The Xeno with the rifle lowered its weapon to aim at my head, which would be the last mistake it would make in this mortal plane. Faster than the human eye could follow, I grabbed the barrel of the Xenos' weapon with my right hand and swung the weapon and its user to my right side. The Xenos' cry of shock soon shifted to a grunt as it slammed unceremoniously into the opposite wall. The other Xeno, the one armed with a sword, had the reaction time to dodge aside and avoid its flailing comrade.

I was on my knee now, swinging at the Xenos' legs in an attempt to knock it down. The Xeno was, again, too fast. It jumped into the air with a flip, kicking against my shoulders. What would have knocked a normal man down merely shook me a tad and so the Xeno had the correct for an unexpected rebound. The flip was more sloppy, slower, which meant it was perfect for me to attack.

Using my stolen rifle as a makeshift spear, I stabbed towards the Xenos' unprotected gut. Lacking the leverage to block or dodge my attack, the Xenos' fall was redirected into the hard wall behind it. So came a brief experiment of which was stronger. My appreciable physical strength, the workmanship of this rifle, or the armour and subsequent gut of this Xeno? As it turned out, the answer was the first two.

The Xenos' armour, for all its louted strength and durability, shattered under the force of my hit. The rifle dug right through, surprisingly not eliciting screams of agony, and rammed into the wall. My forward momentum was too much for the rifle, which snapped at the middle.

I stepped back as the Xeno fell to the floor, half of a rifle embedded in its gut. I was not granted a moment to gloat over my victory, however, as the Xenos still inside were firing at me while trying to close the door.

It was foolish of them to open it in the first place. I sprinted to the door, which was maybe a meter away, and kicked my sword through as I crossed the threshold. The twirling piece of metal hurtled towards the four survivors but a blast of energy sent it hurtling into one of the walls.

A Farseer or some like equivalent? This fight just became a lot more interesting.

The three surviving non-Farseer Xenos opened fire with their selection of long-ranged weaponry. Now unarmed and without cover, I did the best thing I could: I ran at them like a Bloodletter out of the Warp. The distance between us of half a dozen or so meters was cleared in only a few strides, all while I avoided the hail of Aeldari fire.

I reached the nearest of the three Eldar, grabbing the barrel of its rifle and wrenching it towards me. As the Eldar stumbled, I kicked out and sent the Xeno flying into the wall with a loud but all too satisfying crunch. Using the rifle as a club, because there was no way in the **Warp **I was going to try to learn how to use the damned thing while under fire, I caved the skull of the other range-oriented Xeno. Spinning, I managed to deflect the last strike of the Xeno swordsman. Its weapon shifted as quick as I adjusted the weapon, managing a glancing strike across my arm where a lesser man would have lost a limb.

I hissed between my teeth, grabbing my opponent's arm and completely stopping their momentum. Grabbing the back of its neck with my other hand, I forced the Xeno to impale itself with the blade. A moment of peace passed as I panted, feeling far too exerted after fighting less than a dozen Xenos. Sadly for my aching body, that silence was only a moment.

Blazing agony filled my body as I was sent flying, great lances of blue lightning slamming into me with the force of a Chimera. It must have been some blast, as the bodies of the three fallen Xenos were vaporized in an instant. Luckily, my body was made of sterner stuff. Sadly, my clothes were not. Naked and smoking, I lay in a fetal position for a moment and willed my limbs to function.

The Xeno spoke its voice, though deeply augmented by its helmet, distinctly female and with an almost musical lilt to it.

"You are strong, Mon-keigh," I could almost _taste _the smugness in its tone, "But like the rest of your feeble race, not enough."

I, every being the witty genius, responded thusly: "Yeah? F-fuck you."

In that instant, multiple things occurred at once. The Xeno extended her arm, fingers outstretched to call upon the same eldritch powers she used to throw me. My mind and body were one again, however, and allowed me to launch myself from my spot on the cold floor. The Farseer, being a Xeno capable of seeing into the future, changed the direction of her attack just before I started moving. Sadly for her, and luckily for me, the night haunter was also capable of extensive forms of combat precognition. For the first time in years, I truly fell into the animalistic yet cunning mind of the being I called the night haunter.

I slid beneath the great blast of energy all while a great smile began to spread across my face. The heat energy burned away what little remained of my body's natural hair from the first attack, but did not harm me directly.

On feet in a flash, I launched myself at the Xeno, armed with only my strength and my bare hands.

Through my mind came countless futures and possibilities for each and every possible attack I could attempt, flying through faster than light as I subconsciously acted on them. Our fight was less a battle and more a dance, neither of us truly landing a hit on the other yet slowly wearing one-another down.

She takes a kick from me in exchange for a slash across my abdomen, and I allow a stab so I can deliver a mean right hook. The game of durability was not one she could win, however, for no matter how far into the future she could see, she could never outlast me.

In time, her determination shifted into apprehension as I suffered fatal wound after fatal wound yet kept standing. This apprehension changed to worry, that into fear, and finally into abject terror. It was all so amusing to the night haunter, the night haunter could taste the fear and it was _delicious_.

Oh, this Eldar would pay. Pay for the deaths it caused, for the harm it had inflicted upon the night haunter, and it would suffer. The night haunter would ensure it, as it always did.

The night haunter caught the Eldar's last desperate swing, slowly twisting the weapon back down towards its user. The Xeno was forced to a knee as one of the blades locked into the side of the spear slowly approached its neck.

"What… What _are _you?!" It demanded, fear as well as fury lacing its voice. The night haunter only laughed, for no words were known to the Eldar or Adrian could properly describe such a being.

Then it came, a vision of a future to be or perhaps not.

It was of myself, Adrian, standing before a host of great warriors coloured with bright reds and oranges and bearing the emblem of a rising sun; of the new dawn. We stood before an Imperium, reformed and rebirthed as the vision the God-Emperor had intended instead of what it was today. Indeed, _we_. Behind me were three figures of immense size and presense, and yet I was equal in both their eyes and those of the host. I could not truly see them, merely their presences coincided with a forth. At my side, like an equal or partner, was a woman… No, a _Xeno? _An Eldar, _this _Eldar. The Xeno was dressed as she was now, black armour and all, but her helmet was held under her arm as she looked over the host… _his _host. Her black hair had been tied back in some hasty manner to keep it out of the way, meaning her strange ears were fully in view. I did not feel hatred for her, no… It was… Friendship? Companionship? Trust? For a Xeno?

She turned her head to look at me, her alien features as comforting as they were aggravating… No, my aggravation was from her expression. _Mischief _was on her face, and it annoyed me. She spoke, but the words never reached me as the world spun once more.

A second vision appeared before me, where I spared the Xeno as I did in the first. It took my hand and joined me for a time unknown until we were in a cave. I was knelt on the ground, terror and disgust for myself racing through my mind. Why I felt this was a mystery, but the Xeno stood at my back and listened to my woes. I could not even hear my own words, little more than it drawing the sword at its hip. Pain lanced through my back as I was stabbed by my companion, betrayal joining the swirl of emotions in my mind.

There I lay, my heart punctured as I lay there, dying. The weapon had been infused by the same Warpstuff she utilized on a daily basis. Adrian would die there, and the Night Haunter would completely take control. It would be drawn into the warp by its old masters, who welcomed it with the kindness and acceptance its former ally never would. It was granted a form, a familiar form, and I was granted a moment to see what I would become.

And I was horrified.

It was a monster, greater in size than even of my possible future allies, with a face as pale as snow. Each of its features was exaggerations of mine, yet I knew instinctually that I was not this being. This was the Night Haunter given form, and it would purge the weak, foolish, and guilty. First, it would have its revenge. First, it would kill the Eldar for its betrayal.

Then? The _Imperium._

I was back to the current moment, nearly dropping the spear as I fought the Eldar before me. She was barely holding me back now, her pants clear from inside her helmet. I blinked before scowling and kicking the Eldar back. She grunted, falling to her back as I held on to the spear. Gripping it in both hands, I snapped the weapon with a grunt.

I stepped up to the Eldar and grabbed her neck as she tried to re-orientate herself. I lifted her up, only now realizing that she was a full three centimetres taller than I was. Strange things the mind notices in moments like these.

I debated killing her there, removing the threat against my life and Imperium. If I spared her (why still remained a mystery) and she betrayed me, she would unleash a great threat upon the Imperium in the form of the Night Haunter. I could not allow that, I could not allow the risk of that future to pass and-

_**Don't. **_A fragile voice passed through my mind, so alien yet to familiar. For a moment, I wondered if it was the Eldar, but no. This presence was fleeting, yet commanding in a manner.

_Why? _I thought rhetorically, and my response was another single word.

_**Nostramo**_.

Nostramo? What was the importance of this name? And what did this Eldar have to do with it? No answer dame this time and I was left with the decision. I could kill the Eldar here and not risk the worst of my vision coming to fruition, or I could let her live…

I decided, there, that even the smallest chance of hope was enough

And the night haunter shrieked in rage.

My grip loosened on the Xeno's neck and I let her, gasping and desperately trying to draw breath, fall to the floor.

"I have an offer for you, Eldar," For all the turmoil in my mind, my voice was as calm and level as ever, "And I suggest you accept it."

I dropped her back to the ground, watching with a hint of amusement as she collapsed in an undignified pile, gasping for breath. As she composed herself, as best a Xeno could in her position, I knelt down and gathered the upper-half of her snapped spear. Shortened though it was, the blade could make a useful utensil.

Especially if the Eldar tried anything.

"That…" She choked out, "Was an important weapon…" I cracked a wry smile, not expecting wit from an Eldar. Perhaps the brief blockage of air scrambled her mind?

"Was is the keyword, now it's an oversized letter opener," I commented, looking over the weapon. It was then I noticed my forearm was completely bare. Following the pale skin of my arm up, I remembered the fact my clothing had been vaporized by this Xeno's Warp magic. Damn, and that was a nice suit, too. They didn't make them like that anymore…

Right, Xeno.

"Alright, Xeno, I'll be frank, I was going to kill you. I really wanted to… Still do, to be completely honest," I spoke with my typically calm tone in matters such as these, a level head did wonders for negotiations and the sort, "You've killed a lot of people, and while I can't say I particularly liked any of them I take a certain offence to the murder of partially innocent men and woman."

"Then why let me live?" She growled, her voice returning to its usual musical tone despite her evident anger. She was looking up at me, clearly smart enough to know moving could sign her death warrant. I had begun walking around her, slowly, with the spear aimed in her general direction. My stance was relaxed, but she seemed wise enough to know that could change in an instant.

"That's an answer I hope to uncover soon, to be honest," I shrugged, not much understanding myself, "All I know is a power unknown wants me to spare you and get to a certain planet."

"Power unknown?" She repeated, her voice still attempting to sound one part intimidating and another annoyed. Again, I shrugged. I was beginning to get annoyed myself at the lack of information, but there was really nothing I could do. I couldn't just bring up my visions as I didn't truly understand them myself, all I knew was that answers awaited me at Nostramo.

Which would prove to be a challenge as that entire sector of space was a no-go zone and, last I checked, the planet was several pieces floating through the emptiness of the void. I would deal with that in time, for now I needed to get off this ship and await rescue-

Damn, my distress communicator was in my robes…

"I'll be frank, Eldar. I need you for some purpose beyond my understanding and as such, you shall be travelling with me until such a time that I discover what it is, understand?" There was a moment of silence as she just stared up at me. I returned the look, keeping my face stony as I awaited her response. To be honest, I was expecting either laughter or threats from the Xeno. I had, after all, been in several situations similar to this one.

I was ten-thousand, I'd been through more than a few sticky situations.

Her laughter was as musical as her speech and just as high, the Eldar lowering her head and shaking it in disbelief.

"What exactly gave you the idea that I would help you?" She drawled sarcastically, looking up at me as I approached.

Not once did my accent or tone change as I spoke. Placing the blade under his shin and ensuring she was staring up at me.

"I could threaten you, I've had a long time to perfect my torture techniques. Could keep you alive for years just for my own sick amusement," I stated, sensing lingering amounts of amusement coming from the Eldar. She had likely heard all the same before, but that was just the first step in my 'negotiation'.

"But something tells me," I turned the blade sideways so as not to drag the edge along her neck and inadvertently kill her, and slowly slid down her neck and over her chest. There, nestled between her breast and neck, was a small, glowing spirit stone, "Whatever the Prince does to you will be infinitely worse."

I tapped the spear against the stone to get my point across: she would die only after I destroyed the stone.

She froze, horror and terror replacing her earlier arrogance and amusement.

"You wouldn't- You can't-"

"Oh, I would, and I most certainly can," I spoke more pleasantly now, letting a smile grace my features. For all my years of interrogation and negotiation, I don't think I've ever done it naked…

I stepped forward, pushing the point of the spear into the glowing red gem. The Eldar quickly scrambled backwards, not that she could get very far away from me as I pressed forwards more. She continued back until she reached the wall, her former spear pressed to the one way the Eldar could protect their souls from Slaanesh.

"An eternity of torture and pain the likes of which I can only guess at and even then just scratch the surface. I wonder how long your consciousness would last? How long, Farseer, before you are driven mad and forced into an endless cycle of torture?" I asked before pausing for a second and cocking my head as a thought came over me, "You are a Farseer, right? The wings are the tell, aren't they? I can never be too sure."

"Damn you, mon-keigh," She snarled up at me as she pressed further into the wall, trying to keep her precious stone as far from the spear as possible, "Damn you and your entire kind to the Warp!"

"Yeah, we get that a lot," I admitted with a shrug, "But here we are. My offer stands: help me uncover a mystery of great importance to me," _and you, _"or suffer an eternity of damnation at the hands of a member of the four."

I could feel the swirling emotions in her mind, clearly weighing her chances. Oh, she could try and kill me, certainly, but as I proved her powers were borderline useless against me in a 'kill' fashion. I was far more difficult to kill than my thin, pale exterior gave away.

"I don't seem to have an option," She finally said with an immense amount of hesitation. I fixed her with my most winning grin and lowered the weapon. It did not have the effect I wanted as the Eldar made no attempt to extradite herself from the wall.

"You always have an option, Eldar. One just ends in guaranteed pain and suffering while the other only _might_."

"Your humour is painfully basic even for a mon-keigh."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

The Eldar sighed in defeated before shakily getting to her feet. Despite my levity, I kept one eye on her for the barest sign of aggression. The Eldar were notoriously slippery and my premonition of the future was still fresh in my mind. The Eldar would have the chance to prove herself, but how far into the future that was remained a mystery to me.

"Where, exactly, do you intend for us to go?" She asked, but my mind was already racing to slam together a plan. Was it bad? Yes. Was it borderline suicidal? Most certainly. Was there any other option? No.

"Short term, we need to get back to the cruiser and activate the long-range distress signal," I announced while tapping the shortened spear's tip on the ground as I spoke and thought, "There is an unmanned station on the other end of the system, likely to shoot any signals to the nearest fleet."

"That's your master plan?" The Eldar demanded incredulously, the look of anger she was probably sending in my direction being enough to curdle milk. I merely grinned beatifically, tossing the destroyed spear aside.

"I don't think either of us has enough people left to fly one of these ships, so this will have to suffice." She became solemn at that, her head dipping an infinitesimal amount and shoulders drooping. I was reminded that not everyone was as accustomed to death as I was. What's more, records seem to agree that the Aeldari species were far more closely entwined than mankind or other Xenos species. Perhaps it came from there being so few of their kind…?

Shoving aside the side of my brain dedicated to researching everything and anything.

"Come, the sooner we can get to my shuttle the sooner we can get out of here." I announced after a moment of awkward silence, turning away from the Eldar deliberately and making my way towards the still only partially opened door.

"My spear," The Eldar suddenly said, causing me to sigh and turn. She was indicating towards the piece I had thrown away, with one hand, her former agitating disposition returning in force.

"Yeah?" My tone was as sardonic as I could manage, which was quite a feat as I had long since mastered the art of sarcasm, "What about it?"

"How am I to protect myself without a weapon?"

"That's why I'm here and don't you have your sorcery?"

"Clearly," She indicated around the room for emphasis, "Defending is not your forte, mon-keigh. What's more, I cannot use my powers so frivolously."

"I was under the opinion that your kind took 'surviving' as rather _un_trivial."

"You would not understand, mon-keigh."

"Something tells me I would understand it well enough, but fine. Take a sword, but move. It's starting to get quite cold and I would like to get some clothes on."

And that was how I began the adventure that would change my life in ways even I had not foreseen: completely naked, accompanied by an Eldar, and aboard a formerly-hostile ship.

How strange.

* * *

The heavy transport was as I had left it; leaning on one of its wings and sitting parallel with the door. That would be a bit of a struggle to move, but I was nothing if not resourceful.

Through-out our rapid trek through the ship, the Eldar proved to be quite capable of keeping pace with me despite my heightened speed, we had passed the bodies of many an Eldar. Each time, the Farseer seem to slow down and take them in before continuing. I was certain it pained the Eldar to see her dead kin as it did for me when I saw dead humans, albeit a far less dulled emotion. It seemed that no matter how many people I killed or how many mass piles of bodies I saw I would always feel a twinge of regret at such a loss. Life, namely human life, was a sacred thing that should not be so blatantly wasted. Unless it was to appease a blood-thirsty mental disability, or if they were daemon worshippers, or if they were trying to kill me first…

The moral of the story is a hypocrite, but I'm also over ten-thousand years old so I'm allowed this.

Back to the hangar, we boarded the downed transport. The inside was empty, big surprise, but still mostly stocked. I thanked the Emperor for that boon, sifting through a voidsuits in search for one that would fit me. I was still completely naked, after all.

"Eldar, is that suit of yours void-capable?" I asked as I pulled the void suit on… Bugger me sideways, that was cold!

"This is no 'suit', mon-keigh, it is-"

"Answer the damn question," I snapped, cutting her off as I closed the many clasps and tinkered with the many gauges.

"No. It. Is. Not." She bit out behind clearly clenched teeth. Based off of my many reports, Farseers were supposed to be aloof and practically emotionless, the fact that this one… well… _wasn't _raised many red flags to be dealt with at a later date.

"Alright, put this on," I ordered, tossing a suit that looked tall enough for her. It was a suit intended for a man, far broader in the shoulders and such, but it was the only one that might be tall enough for her freakish height.

Damn Xenos, making everything difficult.

The Eldar deftly caught the suit and stared down at it for a second.

"This won't fir over my armour," She said with clear annoyance, holding the suit up by its shoulders.

"Then take the armour off," I responded as if that were the most simple thing in the galaxy. She stared at me for several seconds without a word as I continued tinkering with my suit, ensuring everything was proper and set.

"Take my armour _off?!_" She repeated incredulously, her voice rising several octaves.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it back in your panic room."

"My spirit stone-"

"Pop it out, I'll give you a necklace to stick it in." She was quietly seething for several more seconds as I completed the task of setting up my suit. Finally, she relented when it became clear I wouldn't. Despite how overly complicated her armour was, it came apart in several pieces at an admirable pace. Beneath the black armour, she wore a black bodysuit, removing her helmet last.

How I was angled, and thanks to the opaque masks of the suits made to stop a moron from blinding themselves look at a sun, I could make out her face without being overtly obvious that I was looking.

It was as my vision showed me, from her pristine black hair to her elongated facial features and pointed ears. Her expression was nearly unreadable, seeming a mix of fury, terror, and acceptance. That last emotion confused me, an Eldar would never so quickly accept being the prisoner of a 'mon-keigh'. Again, the question of _why _they were here was raised and subsequently quashed.

I still had a couple of decades experience at a torturer's table if the need came.

No sooner was her familiar-yet-not face exposed then it vanished when she put the suit on. With some struggle, she managed to zip it shut, though it soon became evident she had no idea what to do next.

"Your technology is as primitive as it is uncomfortable." Was her sarcastic statement as I finished the job for her, standing awkwardly as I tugged and adjusted.

"Says the Eldar whose over the top armour can't protect her from the void."

"It is not typical for a Farseer to be in the void, mon-keigh."

"You're aboard a Throne-damned voidcraft, what happens if it was attacked and vented?" She opted to remain silent in response, though I could feel the barest tensing of her muscles as she likely fought to keep her temper in check.

With her suit in working order, though it was scrunched up at her arms and shoulders while being to tight at her chest and hips, we gathered our swords and went into the cockpit of the transport.

With a rumble of ancient engines, the transport came to life. The Eldar gripped both her seat and the console between us as it lurched, her sharp intake of breath amusing me. A loud screeching of metal met our ears as the transport, slowly, turned in place to aim back out of the hangar. One of the Eldar craft, which was situated in front of where the transport had been sitting initially, was toppled when the tail of the transport slammed into it. Both the Eldar and I jumped when the sudden hit sent the transport listing off to one side. The alarms that filled the cockpit did not help anything.

"I thought you could fly this thing!" The Farseer snapped, gripping her armrests so hard I could almost see the metal starting the bend.

"It was less flying," I admitted over the alarms, fixing each problem with the flick of a switch or adjusting of a knob, "And more crashing with limited casualties."

The reflective glass of the Eldar's suit hid her expression from me, but if I were a betting man I would wager she was somewhere between apoplectic rage and bewilderment. At least, the Farseer equivalent of such. Records, again, stated that they were a closed off and up-tight sort.

Ghastly.

"It is astounding your race evolved the ability to walk upright."

"What, and miss out on the galactic storm you lot brewed up? Not a chance." Again, she was stunned into silence. Perhaps it was rare for the Eldar to find a human who could keep up verbally?

Or maybe the emotional whiplash of the last few hours was getting to her.

"I change my mind, kill me now. At least I can pretend I died with some form of honour." I laughed at her words, causing her to jump as I finished my 'pre-flight' checks.

"Oh, my sweet child. Don't you know? There is no greater honour than dying alongside Adrain Morrelaris; Remembrancer Extrodinaire!"

I had no idea where that was coming, maybe I was just feeling a little theatric at the moment. Really, I was expecting the ship to jet forwards at the end of my words. Evidently, that was incorrect as we remained stationary. Pushed the shuttle forwards again, but it didn't move.

"What in the name of Isha is a Remembrancer," The Eldar basically growled, "and 'child'? I am an Eldar, mon-keigh, I am-" Whatever else she was became lost behind a high scream as I flipped some random switch and sent the transport rocketing out of the hangar at top speeds. I made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scream myself, though I would always claim the former as it was far more manly.

I narrowly stopped us from slamming headlong into a wall of the hangar, and in the emptiness of the void there were far fewer things for me to ram. It took a couple of seconds, but I eventually managed to correct the transport.

The moment it settled onto a course, both of us slumped into our seats with matching sighs of relief.

"If you desired to get me killed, could you not chosen a quicker way?" She bemoaned as I retook control of the transport and angled it towards the opened hangar of the cruiser.

"No, I'm just abysmal at flying."

"That much is quite obvious, mon-keigh."

I didn't dignify her words with a response as I set the transport down. My landing was, while far better than the one I made aboard the Aeldari ship, far from smooth, but the landing gears felt like they were still working so that was a win in my book.

"Readings say there is still oxygen outside," I note, looking at the mess of information being thrown at me by the console, "Keep the suit on, just to be safe."

"And if we happen across your kind aboard this vessel?"

"Well, you don't look _un_human when the suit's on, so maybe they just won't notice your several inches taller than the galactic average, freakishly thin, and there are small points around your ears?"

"Your confidence is staggering, mon-keigh."

We stepped down the opened ramp, taking in the ruined hangar with wary eyes. Something had butchered the former pilots and crew members that escaped this far into the ship, and if the state of the corpses were any indicator, that something was big and powerful. The daemons of Khorne clearly made short work of those poor bastards.

I dragged my eyes from the desecrated corpses to the airlock. Despite the state of the hangar, the door was clamped firmly shut. The Eldar, thankfully, had no comment, clearly as off-put as I was by the brutality.

"We need to get to the bridge. Stay close," I order, my usually boisterous attitude falling to way-side. There was a time to be jovial and have banter, and ten-thousand years told me now was not the time for either.

The first door opened without incident, leading into the airlock proper. The sensors on my suit began to beep for a few seconds before the oxygen tank activated automatically. The rush of processed, cold air was a shock for both of us if the Eldar's gasp was anything to go by, and the second door to the airlock opened. While artificial gravity might have still been active, the hallway had clearly been vented or otherwise depleted of oxygen.

Half a dozen bodies of the cruiser's former crew littered the hallway, their blue faces tight with pain and terror. Evidently, the daemons of Khorne had nothing to do with this lot. It was a horrible way to die, suffocation, and I could only pray that their suffering was not long.

I pressed on without a word, stepping over or around the fallen voidsmen and towards the next door. Another cycle of airlocks and the suits confirmed there _was _oxygen again.

Listening deeper into the ship, which was a bit of a challenge given the muffling effects of the void suit, I realized I couldn't hear anything. Of course, there was the whine of ancient metal resisting the pressure of the void, and the distant blaring of alarms, but no sounds of battle or the crew. It was then that I realized I couldn't _feel _anything, either. Only the presence of my Aeldari companion, which was like a beacon to my mind; the distant planet of Nostramo, and the bubbling desire for justice and blood, which could probably be likened to a mild hunger than an actual desire.

My steps faltered, for most of my life I had been guided by the foresight granted to me by this power, why did it stop now?

"Mon-keigh?" The Eldar noticed my pause and sounded both confused and concerned, though likely for her own life than my state. Fear laced up my spine for the first time in countless centuries, true and incandescent terror. For thousands of years, I had relied upon this unknowable power to foresee both the actions of enemies on a subconscious level as well on how to act in certain diplomatic situations. It was my crutch when my natural strength or abilities failed me and now that it was gone… I was worried.

"It's nothing, we need to move," I said after a moment, she did not need to know that I was severely weakened. Her stare bore into my skin, but I opted instead to ignore it. Figuring out what was wrong with me (at this present moment) could come later, getting to the bridge and sending a distress signal took priority.

More bodies began to appear the further we got from the hangar, some within the oxygenless sectors and others eviscerated by the daemons of Khorne.

"We aren't alone." The Eldar suddenly announced from behind me, her voice becoming emotionless. I didn't look back, unsheathing my sword and looking down the hallway.

"Where and Who?" I demanded, giving the weapon a flourish as I prepared myself.

"I don't know, and something… _dark_."

"Daemons?"

"Most likely."

"Great," I growled before a realization hit me, "Wait, why would they still be here-"

"Mon-keigh!"

I didn't even think before ducking, reacting just in time to avoid getting decapitated by a mishappen blade. I slashed up, cutting the arm off at the elbow before twisting and bisected my would-be attacker. The daemon howled in rage as I slived it in twain, pain seeming secondary as it howled ancient insults up at me. I ignored the being and made ready to assist my comrade-by-situation. As it turned out, that would be unnecessary. The Bloodletter that tried to attack the Eldar had locked blades with her, hissing threats and promises of great agony down to her. The Eldar didn't respond with words, dropping her guard and slipping to one side. The daemonic blade dug into the metal plates below with enough force to cleave a human in two. The Eldar twirled and slashed her blade through the torso of the daemon. While she lacked the strength to cleanly chop the daemon in half, it was certainly a killing blow. With a howl, it collapsed and was finished with a stab through the skull.

The two of us reassumed combat stances, blades raised and backs to one another. When no daemonic reinforcements arrived, we allowed our guards to drop if only slightly.

"Why are they still here?" I wondered aloud, watching with detached interest as the daemons faded away back to the Warp, "I can only assume everything on this ship is dead."

"Perhaps they are hunting for something?"

"Maybe… But unlikely. The Inquisitor stationed on this ship was investigating some heretical nonsense, so if I were a betting man, I would wager someone summoned them. I've searched this entire ship from top to bottom and I know there is no hidden artefact aboard."

"Perhaps not something, rather some_one_?"

"There is no one of such importance aboard this ship that the daemons would continue forcing themselves to be tethered to this plane."

"You." I shot a glance over at her, but whatever her expression was remained hidden to me.

"Is that an admittance as to why your kind are here? Touched though I am, I never though I was so important as to warrant… What, Ulthwé? Ulthwé to send one of their vaunted Farseers after me."

She remained silent at my accusation, looking anywhere but directly at me.

"Few things remain hidden forever, Farseer, fewer still from me. Now is not the time for my interrogation, however. If daemons truly are aboard this ship then my plan has changed."

"Changed?" Asked the Eldar, clearly relieved at the change in subject. I gave a brisk nod, a feat given the restrictive head of my suit.

"I will not allow a horde of daemons to keep control of a cruiser, so after I send out the communication we'll take off the restrictions on the core and let this thing blow itself up." The Eldar had no comment for the plan, though her nod told me she accepted it. With that, we took off once more down the ever-stretching halls of the ship.

* * *

No more daemons attacked us in transit, though whether that worried me or made me relieved remained a matter of contention. Our trek ended outside the bridge, the hallway obviously part of the Admiral's last stand. The massive hallway could have been filled with anywhere between fifty to one-hundred men, not that it was easy to tell based on what remained of them. Heavy bolter emplacements alongside countless lasguns and autoguns. A glorious stand it must have been, but the ruined door on the other end of the hallway told me it had been a futile gesture.

"Tread carefully," I warned, putting an arm out to stop my Aeldari companion, "A doomed man is far more likely to leave an explosive surprise for his enemy if he already knows he is going to die."

She gave a nod, which was hard to decipher given that we were both still dressed in out voidsuits.

Inside the bridge, there was much of the same mess. The surviving crew and staff lay in pieces all around the room, the greatest of which was slumped against the view screen.

Admiral Humatiel, for all his boisterous nature and abrasive mannerisms, died as an officer should: a laspistol on one hand and a power sword in the other. A daemon had clear cleaved him in two, his legs a few feet from his torso, but the man's face was not a mask of terror.

Humatiel's lips were drawn back in one final snarl, his eyes glaring balefully into nothingness. He had died fighting alongside his men, and I could respect that.

The mess of blood and organs in the chair of the astropath told me the resident navigator was dead, meaning I had to rely entirely on the short-range.

In this day and age, astropaths were the single most necessary thing aboard a vessel, for both communication and navigation through the tumultuous Warp. I still remembered the days when there was not a such a heavy over-reliance on astropaths, as long-range radios worked. Something about 'way-stations' between the vast distances to sling communications or the such. Those were more enlightened days before the Cult Mechanicus became the traditionalistic and paranoid disaster they were today.

I found the short-range communicator and, as I had suspected, the out-system communicator was still active. I was really pushing my luck here. First, someone had to be even _listening _to an out-dated short-range communicator. Second, someone had to be close enough to pick up the communication. Third, someone had to be listening long enough before this ship detonated and the communication was lost. Forth, my companion and I would have to survive long enough for help to reach us.

I did not like those odds.

"The communique was sent, now we can only wait," I stated, stepping away from the cogitator.

"How, precisely, do you intend to convince your kind to not kill me on sight, mon-keigh?" The Eldar demanded, scoffing when I waved her away.

"I'm got a plan in the works, ask me once we get the core ready." I really did, for once. It involved the uniform of a Guardsman, one of the lasrifles, and a few days of shotgun training aboard the transport.

* * *

The trek down into the murky interior of the cruiser revealed to us a new enemy. Though none of the Khornate daemons made their appearance, a number of mutants attacked us. Likely corrupted by the malignant powers of Khorne, they screamed for out blood as the two of us cut them down with pitiful ease. If the minor daemons weren't much of a challenge for the two of us, what gave this mutant scum the idea that they did?

"They follow the teachings of Khorne," The Eldar bit out sarcastically when I voiced the question. A fair point, logic and basic reasoning seemed to be the last thing on the minds of Khornate heretics.

It took maybe three hours, but the two of us reached the core. The Tech-Priests seemed to have made a last stand of their own with the surviving crewmen and, to my surprise, non-corrupted mutants. It seems millennia of disdain and disgust are cast aside when faced with the true enemy.

The massive core pulsated with unknowable power, the heat if was giving off making me sweat in my voidsuit. Thank the Emperor these things were made to protect its wearer from radiation as well as the cold vacuum of the void.

"Y-You're a-a-alive?" A deeply augmented voice caused my companion and I to whirl, weapons raised to aim at the speaker. Leaned just around the corner of the massive blast door was a Tech-Priest, or what was left of them. His legs and left arm were missing, though a single mechadendrite and his right arm still remained. I lowered my looted lasrifle as soon as I noticed who was speaking, though my Eldar companion was not so hasty.

I walked over to the fallen Tech-Priest and knelt at his side, taking in the damage. His eye, the human one, was glazed over and staring off into the distance, but the bionic one still moved about and glowed dimly.

"We are, friend. Are you the last of your lot?"

"Y-y-yes. The d-daemonic forces s-stormed the core following the fall of the b-b-bridge. Are-Are you reinforcements?"

"I'm afraid not, we are survivors as you are."

"Oh," Despite the man's clear descent into robotics and augmentations, he still managed to put very human despair and loss into that sound. I looked up at the core, realizing I no longer needed to fumble about until I could figure out a way to deactivate the restrictions.

"The daemonic incursion is still present aboard the cruiser, but we have put out a distress signal. Help will come," Or, at least, I hoped it would, "But we must overload the core. This ship cannot fall into the hands of daemons, can you help us?"

The bionic eye looked up at me, studying my mask for several seconds.

"I will not live that long, fleshling," The blunt tone did not portray emotion like before, but before I could speak it continued, "To override or tamper with the core is paramount of heresy in the eyes of the Cult Mechanicus… But exceptions are to be made. I will assist you, fleshling. Bring me to the cogitator 37 degrees to your right."

I bent down to lift the Tech-Priest only to find that a lot more of him was metal than I had initially anticipated. I could carry him over, but I doubt I could hold the doomed Preist long enough for him to do whatever work he needed to do.

"Give me a hand?" I asked of my companion, careful not to mention she was an Eldar. She, naturally, ruined the purpose by speaking.

"What?" Disgust was obvious in her voice, but the sound made the Priest's head turn so fast I was certain it was going to pop off.

"You are not human," He snapped, anger clear in his tone and had he been within reach of a ranged weapon he probably would have shot the Eldar. The Priest's head turned towards me again.

"You dare bring a Xeno into this sanctum?!" The Tech-Priest demanded though he seemed to restrain himself from using that metal claw of his to snap my comparatively flimsy neck.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, venerable Tech-Priest. We have a common enemy with them."

A moment's pause.

"Very well, take me to the cogitator."

The Eldar, after another brief battle of wills, folded and picked up the side of the Tech-Priest lacking an arm. With the two of us, we easily walked him over to the console. The Tech-Priest's two remaining arms quickly moved over the machine with robotic precision. The mess of data flowing across the screens of the cogitator was meaningless to my untrained eyes but apparently meant something to the Priest as he spoke.

"It is done. There are a series of manual-override switches around the outer wall of this room. You must flip each one to the label 'off'. This will deactivate the-" A deep, impossibly loud roar echoed down from the hall the Eldar and I took, reverberating through the core. Each of us turned to look down the hall, silent as we listened. The telltale footfall of something heavy and fast reached our collective ears.

"Allies?" The Tech-Priest queried. Our lack of response was ann the answer he needed.

"Then I will spare you the details, go." I nodded and took off for the nearest switch within my line of sight. As I left, I heard the Tech-Priest speak with barely masked disgust.

"Xeno, retrieve that weapon for me and lean me against the cogitator. If I am to die at last, then I will do so defending myself until the bitter end."

I reached the first lever, a massive thing pointed up. I jumped and grabbed the lever, attempting to drag it back down with me. All I did was just slide back down, how a single man was expected to pull this massive thing remained a mystery to me.

Perhaps it was for the best, after all, what was to stop a rogue Tech-Priest from just pulling them if it were easy? I, however, was leagues stronger than a normal human or even a Tech-Priest. I clambered up onto a nearby cogitator, grabbing the lever from the top and pulling with all my might. I was rewarded with a screech of metal as the lever slowly went down 90 degrees. Once it snapped into place, alarms began blaring over the sounds of fighting and the room was bathed in flashing red lights. Steam began blasting out near the top of the massive core, but that did not stop me from my quest. I sprinted to the next lever and repeated the process. Two more passed after the second, and I could see my companion again.

She was duelling a trio of Bloodletters, deftly dodging their attacks with effortless grace. Her sword flashed about, almost faster than even my eyes could follow. A splash of blood here and a nick there, but she was wearing down the daemons of Khorne. All while wearing a voidsuit, an admirable ability that I doubted I possessed.

I pulled the last lever into place before jumping down from my perch. My sword jumped into my hand and I raced towards the fight. One of the three Khornate daemons had vanished, a second was on the ground trying to get up despite the vicious slash across its chest, and the last was still locked in a vicious duel with the Eldar. Her movements, while still graceful, were clearly more sluggish now. It was clear this battle, the heat, and the heavy voidsuit were taking their toll on her.

How fortunate, then, that I was there? With a slash that would have made a traitorous Astartes stumble, and dispatched the fallen daemon with ruthless efficiency. The second, still fighting my comrade, didn't even have time to reach before I slashed across its midsection. As its body fell, the Eldar slashed her sword along its throat. Certain our foe was dead, the two of us turned to face the last.

It had reached the already injured Tech-Priest and was attempting to destroy both him and the cogitator. The Tech-Priest, using his remaining arm, pushed himself to one side and let the weapon slam into the metal console harmlessly. Then, with his mechadendrite, the Tech-Priest grabbed the offending weapon. When the daemon pulled back its horrible blade, the Tech-Priest went flying up with it. Now eye-level with the daemon, the priest crammed the barrel of his weapon into the face of the daemon and fired three times. Evidently, this was some Mechanicus weapon, as it shredded the unholy being's face with a ferocity that should have been impossible for any standard weapon.

The Tech-Priest and his kill fell to the ground with resounding crashes. That was roughly when we arrived, to the sounds of the Tech-Priests hoarse laughter.

"Never, in all my years, did I expect I could kill a daemon," The augmented voice sounded pleased, a very human emotion.

"A fine kill indeed, priest." The priest looked up at me, him human eye still sightless, but his bionic one glowing with renewed life.

"Hardly, Remembrancer-but-not." At my silent confusion, he continued, "I recognized your voice, it merely took time to place it. I was present at your arrival, you see. I know you are no Remembrancer, but I do know you are far older than you look. It is done?"

"I- Yes. I've deactivated all safety protocols." I responded, deciding not to counter or bring up the accusations of the priest. The priest nodded, laying his head back against the ruined cogitator.

"I estimate you have five hours and twenty-seven minutes before the core overheats and destroys its protective covering."

"If you and your _Xeno_," The title was given with as much disdain as the priest could manage, "wish to escape, now would be ideal."

"You have my thanks, priest. May the Emperor guide you."

The Tech-Priest merely hummed in response before his eye flickered. Both it and the metallic claw at his back went limp. Evidently, the Tech-Priest decided to save himself the wait and manually disconnected whatever was keeping him alive.

"_Your _Xeno?" Repeated the Eldar disdainfully.

"Leave it, we are on a time-limit now and I still have a few places to stop." A roar similar to the first reached our years, causing me to grimace in annoyance, "And something tells me our resident daemons aren't going to make that easy."

* * *

My plan for escaping the _Bane of Traitors_ involved several stops. Even if my precognition seemed to have ceased, I still had the ability and knowledge to plan ahead for the event after this one. If, hypothetically, a fleet _did _arrive to save our hides, they would try to kill the Eldar and by extension me for being a Xeno and Xeno-lover respectively.

I wasn't, but logic was the lost commodity in the 41st millennium. Oh, how I yearned for the days of the 32nd millennium when, despite the Emperor's death, reason and logic were still in ample supply…

Regardless, I required three things: the uniform of a guardsman, a lasrifle in a decent state of repair, and my records over for the last ten-thousand years. That last goal didn't really go with the 'don't get executed by the Ecclesiarchy', but I spent a long time writing those, damn it, and I wasn't itching to lose them!

Naturally, it seemed every daemon and corrupted mutant remaining on the ship realized what I was trying to do and were set on stopping me. Bloodletters of varying sizes threw themselves at the Eldar and I yet for all their howls and bluster, they were remarkably easy to dispatch. The issue with the Bloodletters, even the small ones, is they are too big to properly let loose. The tight, ergonomic service corridors I was favouring meant they were forced to crouch or rely on short, weak swings. This worked well for the Eldar and I as we relied upon our speed to carry each battle.

When we arrived at the armoury, my companion of circumstance seemed deeply confused.

"Are we not trying to escape?!" She demanded, her voice punctuated by the blare of the warning alarms overhead.

"We are, but I don't fancy dying if we're saved," I explained, opening the door and stepping into the room. It looked as if a storm had passed through. Suits of armour, abandoned uniforms, and forgotten autoguns littered the floor and walls.

"What?" Was her highly dignified response. I began sifting through the uniforms left on the rack, trying to find one that would fit her and not look childish.

"You are an Eldar, remember? This may come as a surprise, but the Imperium sees your kind as both a threat and vermin. Put this on," I ordered, throwing a guardsman uniform in surprisingly good condition. Okay, so it was closer to an armsman uniform, but the patches could be ripped off. I was already working on a justification in my head, so I'd probably have something figured out when… if we were picked up.

The Eldar deftly caught the uniform and studied it with an expression I guessed would have been disbelief. She looked up at me, obviously not able to read my expression through the voidsuit, and spoke with a tone of fury.

"I will not wear these rags, mon-keigh," She snapped, "I am a Farseer, I have dignity."

"Let's see how much dignity you have when they cram a lasgun down your throat, now put that uniform on or I'll do it myself," I snapped, jabbing a finger in her direction. The Eldar cocked her head in what I quickly realized was confusion.

"You'll put this uniform on me?"

"What?" I spoke before realizing my slip, "I meant I would kill you myself, must your kind be so painfully obtuse?"

"Must your kind be so painfully vague in your wording?"

"That's ironic coming from an Eldar."

The Eldar did not dignify my words with a response, muttering under her breath as she took off the void suit. When she tried to pull the uniform itself over her bodysuit, I stopped her.

"Ditch the bodysuit."

"Exuse me?!"

"Ditch the bodysuit, it'll stand out too much." With a scowl that would strike fear into a lesser man, the Eldar quickly stripped her bodysuit. Granting her token privacy, I turned and searched the remainder of the room for a lasgun. Alas, there were only autoguns in many variants left by the former armsmen of the cruiser. No one would bat an eye if she, the Eldar, were carrying an autogun, but I refused to have someone who would spend a significant amount of time around me armed with an Emperor damned autogun. They struggled to punch through the chestplate of a guardsman! Now, lasguns were by far better, and I just so happened to remember where a few were located.

"We need to get up to the bridge," I announced, turning around after a three minute period, finding the Eldar had put on her uniform and was struggling into the body armour.

"Did we not just leave there?" The Eldar asked with a drawl, attempting to pull the helmet over her head before realizing the issue. Her ears folded in a manner I guessed was uncomfortable for her, and despite her best efforts, could not be avoided.

"Indeed we did, but we need one of the lasguns. Actually, to be more specific, _you _need a lasgun."

"I refuse to use one of those-"

"Yes, you will."

She muttered something that sounded distinctly unladylike under her breath in her own tongue, not that I could exactly confirm nor deny it. I gave her a once over, tearing off a couple of patches from the uniform along my way. Now it looked like a stock-vague uniform of an armsman or guardsman, which fit for the backstory I had in my head.

She looked every part the guardsman now, besides her lithe form and startling height. The next issue would be her stance, the way she carried herself, and the way she spoke. The first two were like a graceful dancer and she had a melodic tone that would draw the suspicion of even the most complacent investigator.

Once we were off of the doomed cruiser, I would deal with that.

The two of us threw our voidsuits back on and escaped the armoury, fighting our way through the ever-increasing throng of daemons and mutants. Bloodletters were joined by mishappen Flesh Hounds, which bore down on the duo with ravenous and animalistic fury. These, too, fell to our skill, but again my procognitive abilities seemed to be failing me. I had to fight more conservatively instead of my usual stylized flourishes and leaps. If the Eldar noticed this, she certainly didn't take advantage or bring it up, but I knew what her kind was like. She was biding her time for an escape or attempt on my life, and I would be prepared for it.

The bridge came into view, the hallway leading into it still covered in the bodies of its former defenders. Lasguns were scattered about, as I had expected, but there lay a massive problem at the end of the hall. Or, perhaps, there _stood _a massive problem.

I had seen the greater daemons of the Chaos Gods, but it had always been from afar and with many avenues of escape on my end. Seeing it up close, I understood now why Bloodthirsters were such a large issue.

The massive hall seemed tiny in comparison to the impossible size of the greater daemon, its horned head scraping along the ceiling even though it was crouched low. Hateful eyes glared balefully at me as its teeth gnashed with anticipation.

It was waiting for something, most likely the two of us.

"That's a-" The Eldar's voice, typically soft and smooth, was brought down to a harsh whisper.

"Big fucking daemon, yeah, I know." I knelt down, slowly, and dragged a lasgun from the cold, dead, disembodied hand of what I assumed to be an armsman. This movement was enough for the Bloodthirster to be thrown into a rage, its deafening roar shaking the very structure of the cruiser.

"Run!" I was not going to wait around to fight a Bloodthirster. I was good, but not that good. The Eldar did not need a second warning, she turned on her heel and took off running. Even if she was untrained in running in guardsman boots, or wearing the heavy voidsuits, she still nearly outran me. That was probably for the best, as the breathing panting of the Bloodthirster was close behind us.

I took the lead, trying to bring us through service corridors so as to lose the Bloodthirster, but this was clearly planned by the rage-fueled murder daemons. Each possible service corridor was either clogged with bodies or covered by an emplaced turret, commandeered by a corrupted mutant. The Eldar and I could have passed through these barricades, but not fast enough that the Bloodthirster couldn't just catch up and viciously disembowel us with its mishappen axes.

The hangar's airlock was up ahead, and fate just didn't seem to be on our side. More than a dozen Bloodletters were crammed into that hallway, despite the fact that none of them really fit inside. Likely, they were just there to either distract or possibly kill us.

Naturally, I was exactly itching to let that happen.

"Eldar, if you have any fancy tricks, now would be the time to use them!" I announce, stopping and turning to face the raging Bloodthirster.

"What would you have me do?!"

"There is an army of daemons down there! Deal with them before happy-choppy here gets too close!" I throw myself at the greater daemon, hoping the speed of my attack would surprise it enough to give me a slight advantage. It did, for all of about a millisecond. The daemon was clearly not expecting me to throw myself at it after running through most of the ship. However, a daemon didn't exactly process shock like a human and welcomed the chance at combat like the war-fueled creature that it was, swinging its axes with reckless abandon. This, as it turned out, worked to my advantage, as the hallway was far too large for it to use such wild swings. One axe got stuck in the ceiling and the other was slowed down so much by its path through thew all that my frail, human arms could actually _block _it.

The daemon's howl of fury was almost enough to make this attack worth it.

Behind, the roar of archaic warp energy told me the Eldar was, for once, doing what I said without complaint. Bloodletters howled in pain and fury as their forms were likely torn apart by her power, meaning my fight with this Bloodthirster was going come to a close far sooner than I suspect it would have wanted.

With a slash that cut a large gouge across the face of the daemon, I expedited myself from the fight and dove into the airlock. The minor daemons were gone, leaving just the Eldar standing alone in the room.

"Close it!" I called, sliding to safety beyond the threshold of the door. The Eldar, thankfully, seemed to know which button she had to hit to cycle the airlock, as the door slammed shut behind me. A moment passed as the pressure changed, a large axehead slamming into the door with the force of a Space Marine fired from a cannon.

The axe, thankfully, did not get pulled back out either because it was stuck or because the Bloodthirster was trying something else. Who knew what kind of damage the pressurisation process would do if there was a hole in the chamber?

The opposite door opened and the two of us didn't wait a second longer to race towards out transport of choice. The heavy transport was still awaiting our return, thankfully unmolested by the mass of daemons that had been waiting outside.

We boarded and quickly began the process of readying the ship for flight. We had little time as the daemon came barrelling into the hangar, easily spotting our craft.

"Fuck it!" I snapped, gunning the ship forward just as the daemon leapt at us. As we escaped into the void, we could still hear its final cry.

"_CUUUURRRRSSSSSE!_"

The Eldar and I fell into our seats with twin sighs of relief, content to just sit and let out heart rates slow. At least, that was what I was doing. I wasn't exactly an expert on Xenobiology.

It wouldn't be until an hour into our flight that I realized I had forgotten all my records aboard the doomed 'Bane of Traitors'.


End file.
